


The Sith and the Rebel

by Ariel_Riddle



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Padmé Amidala, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Hate to Love, Padmé!Rebel Leader, Rebellion Lives, Suitless Vader, Vader Infiltrates the Order, Vader Undercover, Vader!Spy, Vadmé
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-05-31 23:47:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 41,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15130403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariel_Riddle/pseuds/Ariel_Riddle
Summary: AU/Vadme/Suitless Vader. Five years after Vader's successful execution of Order 66, Sidious turns his eye to the rebel base on Farstey, and who better to send to eradicate the last of the Separatists than his most trusted prodigy? Padmé has helped rebuild rebel forces and is indispensable to the Resistance, but she soon will face her strongest opponent yet.





	1. The Mission

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** All canon character, plots, and situations from the Star Wars series belong to George Lucas. I am not profiting from this writing.  
>  **Summary:** AU Vadme (Suitless Vader). Anakin was never trained as a Jedi but rather, he's been plucked by Sidious at the ripe age of eight and brought up in the ways of the Sith. Padmé survived her assassination attempt thanks to her decoy, and fled Naboo for Farstey where she's helped build the rebel base with other leaders who have joined the Separatist movement. Lord Vader has risen in the ranks of the Empire, becoming Sidious' most promising prodigy. After his successful execution of Order 66 and extermination of the Jedi, he has now turned his attention to the rebels in hiding, and the construction of the Death Star. Sidious has a mission for young Vader, and tasks his apprentice with infiltrating the rebel forces in order to find out the location of the other bases.  
>  **A/N:** WIP updated sporadically when inspiration strikes. This is unbeta'd and likely fraught with errors. I wholly intend to take this story where I need to in order to accomplish what I'd like to, and therefore will not strictly stick to canon—you have been warned. Please give me the artistic license to change things around to suit my plot. This fic is rated E for adult themes and sexual situations.  
>  _Art by imnotgabrielle (Tumblr)--TY so much!_

****

**~oOo*oOo~**

Footsteps echoed down the hall of the spacecraft as Vader walked down the corridor, black cloak rippling behind him in his haste. His walk was haughty and sure; he fully expected praise for the effortless way in which he'd dealt with the Trade Federation. Thanks to him, the Viceroy would no longer be a thorn in his master's side and the Emperor could expect his full compliance in future endeavors. That coupled with the devastating blow he'd delivered the rebels when he'd eviscerated the Jedi scum five years prior, and Vader's record was near immaculate.

What was more, Vader had looked over the plans for Project Stardust himself, and was pleased with what he saw. He was confident they were ready to move forward with construction of the Galactic Empire's ultimate weapon and issued the credits to do so himself. Things were falling into place rather nicely and he was eager to be the recipient of his master's well-earned approval.

Through the Force, he reached for the comforting ball of energy, a sort of habit now, wrapping himself in the dark power of it. He let out a sigh of content, reveling in the feel of it. It was a pity, really, he so rarely got the opportunity to flex the brunt of his power, _to really wield it_. How he wouldn't enjoy letting loose and test his limits, it had been so long since he'd met a worthy opponent, having removed them all.

Rounding the corner, he entered the vaulted room where his master stood waiting, clad in black robes. Vader drew closer, before dropping to one knee before him and bowing his head in deference.

"Master," he said, simultaneously testing the Emperor's mood through the Force and finding it welcoming. "You sent for me?"

"Rise, Lord Vader."

Vader did as he was bid, and straightened to his full height, but still needed to raise his eyes as his master stood on the highest platform in the room.

"You've done well, my apprentice." Sidious nodded his head approvingly. "I believe you know how pleased I am with you, Vader. There is no one in the galaxy who has my explicit trust as you do."

Vader's heart swelled at the words, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I've had the best mentor in the galaxy," he offered simply.

Sidious let out a dark chuckle. "Perhaps, but regardless, you have not let me down. That's why I know you won't let me down in this."

Vader's brows lifted on his handsome face. "Master?"

"Through a most fortunate circumstance, I've happened upon the location of one of the rebel bases that are giving us trouble and preventing us from the seamless running of our new galactic order. I realize it is merely one of several bases and they are as rare as kyber crystals, but they somehow have managed to cause damage despite their small numbers, as you are aware."

A tendril of excitement flared up in his chest at the news. "Give me leave to apprehend these rebels, Master. I can have _the Executor_ in hyperspeed within the hour. I will torture the location of the remaining bases out of them and bring the information back to you."

Sidious smiled viciously, displaying yellowed teeth. "I have no doubt you would, only, I do not think that's the way to approach this particular mission."

"Master?"

"Rebels are a different breed," his master explained patiently, pacing back and forth in front of the windows providing a panoramic view of the endless expanse of stars. "They believe they have a sense of honor...integrity if you will...but its all folly."

Vader let out a derisive snort.

"Still, they are loyal to their cause, to a fault, in my experience. I've found the need to get a bit more... _innovative_ when it comes to them."

He frowned. "Are you suggesting, Master, that I integrate with these rebels?'

Sidious laughed sadistically. "Ah, Vader, as bright as you are lethal. That's exactly what I'm suggesting, my young apprentice."

"Begging your pardon, Master, but I'm not really sure if I can. I'm no Twi'lek, and I certainly can't act." The notion in itself made Vader want to hurl. Assimilate with the rebels? Disgusting! He could fight, and he could out maneuver, but he couldn't pretend to be _one of them_. It went against his very nature.

"In situations like these, I find it best to stay as close to the truth as possible. We create a backstory that isn't perfect, but one you can relate to." Sidious eyed his prodigy with the keen attention of the Sith Lord he was. "I know the idea doesn't sit well with you, Lord Vader, but believe me when I say that if you accept this mission, we will be delivering the most fatal blow we've ever given our enemies. There would be no recovering for them."

Vader pondered over his Master's words, realizing that Sidious was nothing if not wise. Over the years, he'd come to view the Emperor as more of a father-figure than a master. "Master, my name is known across the galaxy—are you sure it is the best recourse to send me, that I can fool them?"

"Your name, yes, your face is another story, shrouded and shadowed under hoods as it always is. And I do seem to remember another name by which I found you…"

Vader recoiled at the reminder.

The pain.

The helplessness.

The weakness.

Every negative emotion that name recalled within him.

"Master, I despise that name."

"I know you do, my young apprentice, but perhaps this is what you need, one final test to overcome the power that name holds over you."

"I've already proved it means nothing to me any longer," he said with a sneer.

"Prove it to me in this way, and there can be no denying it," Sidious countered.

Vader reined in his anger that had started to roll off of him in dark angry waves. "Yes, Master. Perhaps you are right and there are still issues I must face."

"The dark side of the Force will guide you."

"And if I am to play the double agent, what if I am called to kill other members of the Galactic Republic in order to ensure my story?"

Sidious' smile broadened. "See? You are already thinking like a rebel. You are the perfect choice for the job."

Vader preened under the compliment.

"Do you remember how your temper flares and you wish to flex the power you wield in the Force?"

Vader nodded stiffly.

"I indulge you for my amusements, after all; they are only cyborgs, and what do I say about cyborgs?"

"They're just 'borgs and it isn't as if we can't simply clone more," he responded automatically.

"Exactly!" Sidious stopped in his pacing and whirled to face him. "I do not care about collateral damage but only of securing the location of the other rebel bases. That is not something that can be procured quickly and by just _any_ officer. You must first prove yourself and gain their trust. It may take a while to do so and you cannot risk contacting me during that time. I do not wish you to contact me until you have all the information. Wouldn't it be fortunate if the Death Star was completed by then and we could put it to use on the coordinates you give us? That would be my reward to you, my most faithful apprentice."

Excitement thrummed through his body at his Master's words and Vader soon forgot his worries as he was already thinking about how to immerse himself in his new role as a double agent.

Vader knelt down on one knee before his master. "Please, Master, tell me your will and I will carry it out. I will teach these rebels the real meaning of unwavering loyalty."

Sidious curled his lip viciously, now sure more than ever that he made the right choice. He'd been careful, so very careful, to keep his young apprentice from the clutches of the enemy. Vader's meetings with them had been brief and lethal. The closest he'd ever been to them was at the Jedi temple where not much talking had been had. Now that Vader was twenty-four, Sidious was confident he had Vader's allegiance and the young Sith would not be swayed. He was ready for this mission, and Sidious would once and for all rid himself of his enemies.

**~oOo*oOo~**

The chains around his ankle and wrist rubbed the skin raw and made the appendages throb painfully. He hoped his assumption was correct and allowing himself to be captured by the Imperial Navy on Farstey known for it's heavy rebel presence would earn him a run-in with the Separatists. Ninety percent of all extraditions were being intercepted by rebel forces so it was likely the convoy he currently found himself on would meet the same fate, but if not, he could simply escape and get recaptured until he did meet with them.

It had been Vader's idea initially, and one Sidious had approved of. Both Siths thought Vader's first introduction to the rebels in this way would inspire trust. He could not simply fly to the base on his starship and declare himself for the Separatists. His transition needed to be stealthy and believable, especially if this mission was to be long lasting with the goal of him rising in the rebel ranks.

The terrain on Farstey was bumpy as the vehicle roamed over rough hills and neglected trails. Vader hated the discomfort, it reminded him of his days as a boy, back when he really was required to wear chains, before Sidious had liberated him and taught him the ways of the Force.

Vader glanced to his left and then to his right, sighing when he saw the present company he was cooped up with. The Draethos on his right was drooling some sort of blue slime on Vader's own hastily acquired pilot's trousers, and the insect on his left was making an odd humming noise. Vader's tunic was worn and dirty, and he couldn't help thinking of what a change this was when compared to the opulence and luxury he had left aboard _the Executor_.

He certainly fit right in with the criminals and vagabonds he found himself with. He was thankful for the brown cape at least; he felt vulnerable without a hood. Sidious did not let him appear in public without it. The Sith claimed it inspired fear in the citizens when they were deprived of seeing Vader's face. He begrudgingly agreed with his master. The upper officers he did attend meetings with free of his concealing cloak had expressed their surprise and even scoffed at Vader's youth. They did not make the same mistake again.

Vader was jolted from his thoughts at the sound of an ion disrupter. His adrenaline immediately kicked in as he thrust himself into fight mode. He became acutely aware of the blue-skinned humanoid he was chained with, practically on top of, and when one door was catapulted open, he ducked out of the way as the flash from the disruptor sizzled angrily through the air in a hot red flash dangerously close to his face. It found its target in the form soft gooey bodies sitting on either side of him, which explosively resulted in Vader being covered in blue slime.

He reared up from his seat as panic ensued. Droids began fighting in earnest with the sudden arrival of rebels, but were quickly and embarrassingly overpowered. Vader couldn't help curiously watching the scene from the constraints of his uncomfortable prison. Soon, one rebel clad in a white jumpsuit and a scarf wrapped around most of her face approached the vehicle he was chained to and threw open the remaining door.

He squinted his eyes against the sun, barely making out the foreign landscape of mountains and trees. It had been some years since he'd seen such a planet. The rebel sported a head of hair so thick it was corded around her head and the bursts of sunlight behind her almost made it appear to look like a halo, or at least that's what Vader thought in his somewhat giddy state. It had been far too long since he'd faced a real battle and the excitement was intoxicating.

When the figure whipped off her scarf and dragged her goggles over her hair, pointing a blaster at his face, Vader had a brief and crazed moment of thinking the girl really did look rather angelic. He dismissed the idiotic notion quickly, blaming it on battle endorphins and longing to be drawn into a proper fight.

"A pilot?" Her chocolate gaze raked over his form greedily as she lowered her blaster. "We could use a pilot."

"You must be one of the notorious Farstey rebels," he drawled. "Can't say I've ever come across one. It's a wonder you stay hidden with how messy you are." He glanced at his former partners he had been chained to for emphasis. "I'm sure everyone knows you're here now."

"Everyone knows we're here anyway, but they'd never find us," the slight girl deadpanned, with a mischievous quirk of her lips. "What's the Galactic Empire to do?" Her eyes widened in mock horror and she shrugged sarcastically, as she raised a scanner to his eyes.

Such sarcasm was foreign to Vader and he worked quickly to make sense of it.

"They can't simply destroy us all just to search for one renegade base," she continued, laughing sardonically.

 _How wrong you are_ , Vader thought. In truth, that had been the dilemma, and the secret to how the rebels had thrived for so long, but now with the construction of the Death Star, all they needed was the name of the planet, the rest was collateral damage.

She looked down at the scanner, making a quick appraisal of the findings, then looked back at him. "It's not very often we find humans in these envoys. Tell me, what did you do to get captured by the Imperials?"

Vader smirked and rested his head back on the rough wall. "Why are you asking me? You have everything you want to know right there."

"I like to hear it straight from the source, establishes trust," she explained.

"Did you find someone?" another human girl interrupted, coming alongside the first.

"Yes, Cordé. Anakin Skywalker, pilot, and assassin to the highest bidder. Native planet is Tatooine, born a slave, he bought his freedom at the age of fifteen in the pod races," the first girl answered.

Vader smiled inwardly at the reciting of his carefully constructed history. He'd hacked into the system to be sure to paint a backstory for himself, the same system the rebels were now hacking into.

_You don't want your story too perfect. You might think it easy, but in the long run, that would produce more suspicion. Make it a questionable character. Someone who has endured hardships. The rebels love a challenge. A project they can mold. Give them a tragic backstory rooted in truth and you'll eventually win their hearts._

Sidious' words reverberated through his mind as he looked at the two human women who were evaluating him shrewdly.

"Do you think he can be trusted?" the one called Cordé asked the first, whom Vader now realized was the superior ranking officer.

"One can never fully trust someone paid for hire," the leader intoned wisely, "but what choice does he have?" She never took her depthless eyes off of him and they seemed to cut through his very soul. "I'm Padmé Amidala, commander of this base." She reached a hand for his, not even blinking as she brushed against the Draethos sludge. "What say you Skywalker, would you like to join the Separatists?"

Vader's eyes widened fractionally at her declaration. For some reason, he had not suspected the high ranking officers would get their hands dirty, figuratively and literally. Perhaps it would be easier than he imagined to secure the information he needed?

He shook her hand firmly, before answering with a devilish grin, "I would be most privileged, Commander."

**~oOo*oOo~**


	2. Farstey

**~oOo*oOo~**

The first thing Vader saw when the shuttle crested another nondescript mountain range was a large lake, spreading as wide as he could see. Standing guard around the lake were the infamous Farstey mountain-caves, its turrets and hollow structure making the landscape unique to the planet.

Vader scanned the interior of the hovercraft, quickly assessing those around him. Aside from the two human women he already met back in the badlands, there were several strangers unknown to him.

Tyro Wren, who he immediately pegged as a clone and likely a bounty hunter from Mandalore if his uniform was any indication, seemed to inexplicably, be a general of sorts. Though why the rebels would entrust a Mandalorian with a high position of power was beyond him. A Twi'lek he heard called Hera sat next to the bounty hunter, looking rather comfortable with a blaster rifle slung over her shoulder.

"What territory is this?" The urchin, plucked from the same wreckage as him, asked the officer next to him.

The other human man aboard the ship he recognized from datapad briefings as Caleb Jarrus, a notorious pilot and smuggler for the rebels, answered him, "We don't reveal our whereabouts to new recruits—it's classified."

The urchin, Enoch, he'd heard mentioned, sat back as if stung.

"A third of the planet is covered by these mountain ranges." Commander Amidala smiled kindly at the teenager. "It's how we stay hidden and are able to take in so many refuges."

An orange Mon Calamari, Yos Ri, paced in the space afforded to him, looking like he'd rather swim the length of the lake than fly over it. He glanced over to the curious urchin. "Cheer up, youngling, you may find Farstey to your liking and decide to stay."

Enoch muttered something under his breath about being no youngling, but Vader ignored him, silently pondering over the information he'd learned.

Vader was overcome with the notion to reach for a lightsaber that wasn't there—how he wouldn't love to eviscerate his master's enemies right there on the spot! Imagine, having immediate access to the commander of the Farstey base, it was almost too good of an opportunity to pass up!

Of course he knew he must resist the urge to give into his baser desires, his master had trained him to do so over the years. What would he say if Vader threw away a carefully planned mission just for the immediate sating of his bloodlust? It would not be worth it—of that he was sure. Not to mention there were the other three shuttles flanking this one to contend with.

Vader had to scoff at whatever ill-advised thought process drove the rebels. He'd only seen them pluck three new recruits from the altercation with the Galactic droids—did they really find it worth their trouble and resources to send four shuttles for recruits that may or may not decide to stay? Vader would never approve such a call. The commander was foolish and reckless, in his opinion. It was a clear weakness on the rebel's part.

Vader continued his silent appraisal of the others whilst simultaneously checking his surroundings. They were a rowdy bunch, he noticed distastefully. By the Sith, would they expect him to partake in their incessant ramblings? Was he to be forced to make small talk? The Lord of the Sith would never be found engaging in such frivolous nonsense. He had a hunch this would be his most challenging feat yet.

He barely suppressed the tremors of revulsion as he watched the trio of humans bantering in front of him. They were so careless, probably driven by their emotions, surely Vader didn't even need to interfere—they would likely be the cause of their own destruction! He'd been with them an hour and already he could name a hundred things he would change if he was in any type of leadership position.

The shuttle shifted abruptly before making a sharp dive into the lake. The others were prepared for the rough change in course, and he was saved thanks to his superior reflexes, but the urchin tumbled pathetically over the floor, rolling straight into the door of the craft. Vader paid him no mind, more concerned to see what would be revealed once they came up for air again. So this was how they remained hidden—the base could only be accessed aquatically! And of course the lakes threaded in and out of the mountainous caves in a never ending and nearly identical sequence. Begrudgingly, he had to admit it was a rather genus way to hide one's base. He gave the rebels one positive mark in an otherwise abhorrent report.

They traveled for several moments under the dark blue depths, before surfacing in a wide cave. When the craft opened, Vader noticed a marina of sorts where many more crafts similar to the one they currently boarded were floating in the water. _Why do they need so many crafts?_ He wondered. _Surely they can't have that many numbers._ But even as he rationalized this, the look around the cave was enough to convince him that if the commander had managed to secure such numbers, she certainly would be able to house them here—the area was massive.

"Come on," Amidala waved to him. "I'll show you to your bunker and give you your work assignment."

Vader gracefully navigated the slippery stone, all the while, excruciatingly aware of the commander's watchful eye on him.

"I can show him, if you like," Cordé offered, her gaze roving boldly over him.

He fought back a bristle whilst inwardly seething at the suggestion, more concerned with getting closer to the commander than her lackey.

"That won't be necessary." Vader detected amusement in Amidala's eyes. "You have quite a full plate as it is," she reminded her.

"Yes, milady." The brunette curtseyed out of what looked like habit and Vader's eyes widened fractionally.

"Cordé," she hissed, and all warmth had fled her voice. "I've told you before that name is no longer necessary."

"Oh, sorry—I forgot!"

"That will be all, Cordé." She turned her calculating stare to Vader. "Come, Skywalker. The barracks are just this way."

"What of the urchin?"

"Enoch requires different accommodations than you do," she answered simply.

Silently, he followed the petite, yet demanding commander, his eyes taking in everything he saw along the way. He could not have imagined all the uses they had made for the many rooms and caves inside the mountain. It was a fortress, and he was continuously surprised by the way the rebels had structured the place. For the most part, the way was covered, but every once in a while a turret would provide an opening and view of the darkening sky.

"What do you do when the weather is rough?" He couldn't help but ask.

"We retreat deeper into the base." She gestured to an open area to the left of them. "This is the farming sector. The openings work in our favor as they provide rain and sunshine." She indicated to crudely cut stairs leading up to a maze of other rooms. "That's base Headquarters, next to the Healing center, and training center next to that. Access is strictly prohibited unless proper clearance can be provided."

Vader itched to ask if that's where the rebel's housed their signal. A litany of questions begged to issue from his lips, but he resisted, lest she find cause to suspect him.

She cast a curious glance over her shoulder. "Are you impressed?"

"Of course," he lied flawlessly. "You can probably house a hundred people here."

She scoffed. "More like _hundreds_. There are families to consider."

Vader frowned. "There are younglings here?"

"Anyone who wishes to live in freedom can do so here. They needn't be separated from their families."

Vader wanted to ask what would be so horrible with leaving them behind on the Galactic-controlled planets they came from, but again, he bit back the question.

They walked down, deeper into the cavern of the mountain, and Vader felt heat caressing his feet. His breathing was easier here, and he realized it was due to steam. He looked around for the tendrils of water that he noticed edging many of the areas they'd passed which had served as natural dividers, but found none.

"Down here, we have hot springs," she explained. "We've built our fresher around it. You'll have to share the area."

Vader visibly blanched at the unsanitary notion, and it did not escape the commander's notice.

"But it's rather large," she continued. "You should be able to find privacy easily enough."

He blinked, refocused, and nodded stiffly.

"These are the barracks, and you're in luck, there are several individual hovels available at the moment."

"Thank you for your hospitality, commander."

"Another thing you should know, Skywalker. I'm one of five commanders on this base."

Vader's scalp prickled as he listened intently.

Amidala continued. "In Farstey, there is always to be a minimum of three commanders kept at the base at all times."

"Five of you, so you work together...like a Parliament?"

"Exactly!" She beamed at his deduction as if he were some school boy working numbers, and he fought to keep the scorn from his face.

Vader was dying to know who each individual commander was but had to physically bite his tongue to keep from asking.

"You'll learn who everyone is in due time," she assured him. "Meanwhile, I'm placing you in the Farming Sector for your first job."

"The Farming Sector?" He tried and failed to keep the edge of distaste out of his voice. "I was under the impression you had use of pilots."

"That's not a position that's bestowed lightly." She gave him an apologetic smile. "Pilots have high security clearance and you'll need to be vetted first. Consider your position farming tuberous crops to be an interview of sorts."

"Of course, commander."

"Ah, here is an empty room right here. Will this suffice, Skywalker?"

"It will do nicely."

"That room across the hall and down a ways belongs to Kanan. He will get you squared away with your uniform and security badge. Should you need anything, just ask Kaeyou, the pod unit protocol droid. Dinner is in an hour, back upstairs in that large room we passed. Do you think you can find it?"

"I'm sure I can."

"Wonderful. Welcome to Farstey, Skywalker. I hope you find it to your liking."

Vader watched the commander as she retreated, before turning back to face what would be his living quarters. It was small, but there was a bed, dresser, and water spout. Likely better than a Galactic cell, but only just. He cast a glance down the hallway to where Amidala had indicated the pod boss resided. He had no doubts Kanan would keep an _extra_ eye on him, after all, he had claimed to be an assassin for hire. He certainly had his work cut out for him.

**~oOo*oOo~**

"Did you hear?" Tyro asked, sidling next to Padmé in the dinner line. "Commander Joth still hasn't made contact since his last hologram message in Wild Space."

"Tyro, really," she chided. "You can wait and discuss such things with me in a more secure area."

He scrunched up his face. "No one's listening."

"Are you familiar with every species we've taken in?" she asked pointedly. "Suppose one of these refugees has excellent hearing?"

"Point taken, commander." His tone turned crisp and professional.

"We have a meeting to discuss the predicament tonight," she reminded him.

Inwardly, she worried that Commander Joth had indeed come across the Galactic Navy. It would be a terrible loss to Farstey, not to mention a detrimental blow to their own navy to lose such a ship. The last news they'd received warned of a heavy enemy force in the area. Lord Vader's own ship had even been spotted. It was highly likely the larger rebel aircraft could have been overtaken by the sleek and stealthy _Executor_.

She cringed as she worried for her friends aboard the ship. She prayed they didn't have the misfortune of running into the Emperor's most vicious weapon. Lord Vader was renowned in the galaxy and his name incited fear wherever uttered. It was the rebellion's top priority to take out the fearsome Sith Lord, but he was nigh untouchable.

Sighing, she reached for a bottle of spring water and added it to her tray before turning for the officer's table, but she abruptly halted in her stride when she noticed the new potential recruit they'd picked up in Wigley peering down at some inedible looking ormcheck.

Padmé walked up to the tall newcomer. "What would possess you to come to this station, Skywalker?"

He looked up quickly, assessing her with icy blue clarity, before schooling his features. "The line was shorter."

She smirked, looking up into his handsome face. It was no wonder he'd caught Cordé's attention. Young men were a rare commodity, and what a fine specimen of a man he made. With his shaggy blond hair, golden skin, and blue eyes that scraped against hers like shards of Nubian crystal. His shoulders were broad but his body was lithe, like that of a warrior. His jaw was strong, each line of his face chiseled and defined, his lips were full and rather petulant at the moment. "I would imagine so," she replied smoothly. "This line is for Amphibious humanoids."

Padmé thought she saw a flash of irritation flicker across his eyes but couldn't be certain, it was gone so quickly, and when he smiled, she thought she must have imagined it. "I was wondering what this mush was. Didn't look very appealing to me."

She gestured to her plate. "Roastbeast on a stick grilled over spices, tuberous spuds, and green salad. Even I approve, and that comes from someone who's taken meals in a palace."

Skywalker quirked an eyebrow. "Hence the _milady_?"

She pressed her lips in a thin line. "Yes, that's where _that_ comes from."

"Thank you for the tour, milady," he said with a mocking incline of his head.

Padmé's eyes widened at his blatant teasing, but he only laughed as he walked towards the proper line. She felt a smile tug at her own lips, but couldn't help but feel like his laugh was lacking. _He's been through quite the ordeal,_ she mused. _Of course it's only natural he takes time to adapt to the change._

When she arrived at the officer's table, she sat next to Cordé.

"I saw you talking to the new recruit," the brunette was quick to pounce. "Just remember, I called him first." She gave Padmé a look that could only be described as mischievous.

She put her hands up in mock surrender. "You needn't worry about me."

Tyro crinkled his nose, before biting off a piece of his meat. "I don't know what you see in the guy."

Cordé sighed dreamily. "He's intense. Look at his eyes—he's positively _brooding_."

Tyro glanced to where Skywalker stood, serving himself. "That's what a bloke has to do to get through to you women?"

Cordé snickered in response.

Tyro pointed at himself. "So if I were to act all moody and intense—"

"No!" Cordé snapped. "It doesn't work the same."

Tyro let out an angry snort.

"Really," Padmé said, looking between her two friends. "You both are embarrassing me. Cordé, don't you have patients to be thinking about? And you, Tyro, should be preparing for our meeting that's soon approaching."

"Oh, Padmé," Cordé grinned at her friend, "Always so proper. One of these days I'll teach you how to let loose a bit."

Padmé rolled her eyes. "Meanwhile, I'll focus on the war that we currently find ourselves in."

"You know we're only jesting," Tyro was quick to assure her.

"Yes, I know. Just see that you are ready for the meeting. I'm not sure what to expect."

**~oOo*oOo~**


	3. A Promotion of Sorts

**~oOo*oOo~**

"Commander Mothma, did you get a chance to review my petition?" Padmé hastened her steps to keep up with the Chandrilian's longer strides.

Mon sighed as she cast a sideways glance over her shoulder. "Yes, Commander Amidala, I came across your petition as I'm sure everyone has."

Irritation flickered across Padmé's face, but she shoved it aside, with single minded focus on the conversation ahead of her. "Well," she deadpanned. "Won't I be receiving some kind of response?"

"Amidala, can I be frank?" She halted and Padmé followed suit.

"I would find it most refreshing if you were."

Mon took a step into the alcove, placing her hand on the crude railing and staring down at the dark blue water rushing far below them, illuminated by counterfeit light, before meeting Padmé's challenging stare. "What happened to _The Radiant_ was a tragedy, the loss of Commander Joth has hit us hard. Mission Nova has taken a detrimental blow it will likely take us ages to recover from."

Mon's words only served to infuriate Padmé further. "But we already know some speeders were able to escape the craft," she reminded her fellow commander through gritted teeth.

"Yes, and we've dispatched a team to locate all of our pilots with active signal who have landed somewhere in Wild Space," Mon explained patiently.

"But what if their signal is no longer active?" Padmé's tone was etched with exasperation. "The team will simply gloss right over them."

"I'm sure Commander Piell is more than capable of making wise decisions—"

"Mon!" Padmé latched onto the Chandrilian's arm, her eyes scraping against hers beseechingly. "You know _they_ crash landed in Indoumodo, we received their signal."

"Fleetingly."

"Fleetingly," Padmé agreed. "But if there's a chance they could be on that uncivilized planet with no way to communicate, let me take another team to search for them! It shouldn't take long, I would touch down at the very spot where they were last heard from." Her eyes were wide and hopeful.

"Listen, _commander_." Mon's eyes drew to Padmé's hand that still grasped at her wrist, and she let go as if burned. "I understand your connection to the two, but we simply cannot waste more of our resources on nothing more than your hopes."

"I'll go alone, then. Parliament cannot say anything about that."

"You know we need at least three commanders at Farstey, Amidala."

"So vote in Tyro Wren. He's obviously the most fitting for the job. I'm not sure why we haven't already; he already holds the position of general."

"Because of his history as a bounty hunter and a clone."

Padmé's eyes darkened with displeasure. "What an archaic observation. I'm disappointed you would even utter such prejudices aloud, Mothma."

"I told you I would be frank. It's only what everyone else is worried about"

"Organa will vote yes with me, and with Piell gone, that is a majority." Triumph flickered over Padmé's features.

"That's right, I'm sure he _will_ vote with you." Mon eyed her calculatingly. "You know Amidala, you are a great leader, and stellar addition to the resistance, but I have to say—your downfall is your recklessness."

The brunette bristled. "Your concern is noted."

"Indoumodo is a dangerous and untamed planet, one misstep could prove fatal. We already have confirmation the Delta-7 crashed, why would you put yourself at risk for such a hopeless mission?"

"With great risk comes great reward."

Mon raised her eyebrows speculatively, watching as Padmé turned to leave. "I have to ask, Amidala, with so few pilots already, who will you have fly you there? Caleb Jarrus is not here to do your bidding, and your own personal pilot is presumed dead on Indoumodo."

Padmé raised her eyes at her fellow commander. "Don't worry, I'll find someone, and if you and Bail won't answer my petition to grant me a crew, I will go with just the two of us."

"An even bigger blow to our resources and Project Nova when the two of you don't return back to us." Mon regarded her tragically. "But I suppose it's better than losing an entire crew to such folly."

Padmé rolled her eyes, having quite enough of the pessimistic commander, and turned to find Yos Ri. There was a promotion she needed him to orchestrate.

**~oOo*oOo~**

Vader was covered in dirt and grime.

He hated to be filthy, but the thought of dodging the rather bawdy group of girls that liked to follow him around the hot spring canals hindered him from bathing immediately. Their intrepidness only served to fan his rage. He'd taken to waiting hours into the night, when he was sure the surprisingly boisterous group of rebels had finally quieted for the evening. A part of him wished he'd been placed in the family sector instead of the singles barracks. Each night, he would almost fall asleep in the hot springs, the sulfur seemingly soaking through to his very bones and relaxing him to a rather docile state. By the time he made it to his real bed, he had to wake several hours later in order to report to his work assignment.

He was quickly growing tired of it.

What was more, he had very little time to pursue his own interests. He had hoped he could shove his mission aside in favor of a new and more appealing mission of his own. All he needed to do was discover where the rebels housed their signal, and how they were concealing it on the planet. If he could locate it, and scan it, he could use the information to find the other matching signals throughout the galaxy that it reported to sans the need for playing the double agent in the process.

A simple plan, and one that would avoid the Lord of the Sith resorting to slave labor. His master's _innovative mission_ was all well and good, but if Vader could discover his own way to achieve the same goals in a fashion more befitting to him, he would certainly pursue it.

Indeed, it had been easy enough to discover the whereabouts of the signal. The rebels did not seem as keen on hiding their Headquarters and subsequent satellite as they did the other mysterious chambers still elusive to him around the base. When Vader was told to bring down seedlings from the supply ledge, he could see the rounded satellite, unprotected amid cavernous rock. He had wondered if the large output of information was how Sidious discovered the rebel base existed on Farstey in the first place; it wasn't as if the rocks and limestone were going to block the signal from being picked up by the Galactic Navy.

As soon as he had reason to go the ledge again, he used the opportunity to get a closer look at the satellite, but he regrettably, could only get so close, as a deep chasm separated the ledge he stood on and the open room the signal was housed in. For some reason, he had the silly desire to reach out with the Force. He'd first attributed the notion as just merely an excuse to wield it as he missed cloaking himself in the cosmic energy, but the idea continued to nag at him, so reaching out in his mind, he called to the Dark side of the Force and bent it to his will, sending it towards the chamber and testing the air around the object.

He'd been immediately surprised at what he found. Through the Force, he sensed a powerful shield, a defector shield not dissimilar to the one on Skarif, but this shield was unique in that it was manipulated and made impenetrable by the Force. It screamed of Jedi mischief, but the possibility of its existence made no sense to Vader, as he'd overseen the destruction of the Jedi Order five years prior himself.

Had they really been so paranoid as to have set up bases unknown to the Republic long before they were even destroyed? The answer was right in front of his face but he did not wish to believe the treachery he was seeing. His initial reaction was to commandeer a shuttle and fly back to his master immediately with the news, but Sidious had instructed him to stay hidden and not break cover until _all_ the bases could be located. The Sith would not be pleased if Vader disobeyed the rule, and so he stayed put, resigning himself to the fact that he would indeed need to stay in this horrible place and slowly climb the ranks.

Shaking off his private musings, he stared down at the rows of spud shoots he'd painstakingly spent the past two hours placing. Now he faced the arduous task of shoveling soil over the seedlings to keep the tubers covered. He clenched his jaw and the wood handle of the shovel for good measure, wondering when the day would ever end.

…

"Anakin!"

Vader nearly choked on his food at the sound of _that_ voice. Face darkening, he looked up to see the street urchin who for some reason Vader was sure he'd never understand, had latched onto him, waving jovially. He cast a glance to his left and to his right confirming his suspicions that there was plenty of room for the kid to sit down.

To Vader's displeasure, the kid took a seat next to him, wasting no time spouting off the endless drivel Vader was not in the mood of hearing.

"Hey, Anakin," Enoch said, in between slurping his dinner with one long swipe of his tongue.

Vader merely gave a noncommittal grunt in response.

"How are things in Agriculture? Anything exciting happen?"

Would anyone really notice if he Force-choked the Mon Calamarian to death? No one was really paying attention, he mused. He could probably get away with it, or at the very least influence Enoch's thoughts the Sith way to have the kid leave and not disturb him again. It was tempting, but he decided not to risk drawing unneeded attention to himself.

"Same old," he answered, making it clear he was paying attention to his meal and didn't want to converse.

"Really?" The urchin didn't seem able to take the hint. "Lots of action in Coding, today. I even got a promotion!"

When Vader didn't reply Enoch continued undeterred. "From Assistant Coder, Sector 4 to Assistant Coder, Sector 5."

"Not to be contrary, but that sounds like a demotion to me," he said in a bored tone.

Enoch shook his head. "No, you see, the big ship has left on a mission, and they needed more help in Communications." He smiled proudly.

Vader glanced up, suddenly interested. "Left, you say?"

Enoch nodded eagerly, a sparkle in his eye when he noticed Vader's abrupt change in demeanor.

"I wonder where they're off to." Vader remarked offhandedly. "Especially with so many of them." He was careful to remain aloof and only subtly interested.

"Well," Enoch looked around conspiratorially. "I'm not sure of the mission exactly, don't have clearance for that yet, but I did hear they were headed to Wild Space."

"Wild Space?" Vader prodded.

"Mmhmm." Enoch continued to grin stupidly. "Imagine being a part of one of the missions, all the adventures you would have? I can't wait to apply for a position with the Fighters once I qualify."

Uninterested in continuing the conversation with him, Vader straightened from his seat. "I think I'm going to turn in early," he explained. "Hard day in the caverns and all."

"Turn in?" Enoch's expression could only be described as aghast. "But didn't you know the Homians are having a party tonight? They're said to get quite wild."

Vader's lip curled in distaste at the news. "Is that so?"

The Mon Calamarian nodded, large eyes sparkling.

"I may drop by," he said evasively, and turned to leave before he could be halted again.

…

Vader decided he would not wait for the crowd of people that liked to mingle in the common area after hours to die down before heading to the canals. He was feeling more exhausted than he had in ages and he looked forward to a night of solitude.

He moved quietly by the common area, before darting down the stone steps and to the slippery shores of the canal below. He didn't enter immediately into the calm and shallow waters of the entrance, but rather opted to travel further down the length of the springs, until there was no bank left to walk on, and he was forced to divest himself of his clothes.

He laid them in the crevice of a rock, before drawing himself into the water, hissing as he stepped further into the hotness. If there was one good thing about the insufferable place, it was the hot spring canals. Everything else he'd be happy to blow to smithereens once his mission was through but the water he would miss.

Whipping his head around, he checked to see that he was alone before diving under the blue depths, painted dark by the cave, and swimming further downstream in search of privacy. This far away from the neon light put in by the base, the only thing that purged the darkness was the brightly lit stars that could sometimes be seen through a turret opening if he happened to pass under one.

He swam deep into the canals, relishing the sense of unrestricted freedom he felt, and knowing he wouldn't get lost what with his superior sense of direction. His eyes darted to his left and then to his right, his exploratory nature kicking in, and spurring his movements. He stopped swimming when he saw a small inlet, and waded over to it, delighted to find an underwater rock wall that served nicely as seating.

_Solace...finally._

He rested his head against the hard edge of rock and closed his eyes. He was sure he found a spot hidden from the festivities, and the women that seemed keen on catching a peep of him. It wasn't that he was averse to having women in his bed, if he wanted to he could take any number of the women that had shown him interest for a _wild ride_ , the Sith were allowed to indulge after all, it was just that he had an aversion to rebels. Unless it was their humiliation he was after, there was nothing to gain by such interactions.

His thoughts wandered back to his days as a young apprentice under his wise and ruthless master. He'd been to Jabba the Hutt's palace thanks to his master's dealings with the Black Sun Syndicate, and knew firsthand what a get together with the Bloated One's envoy entailed. At his master's request, Vader indulged in the endless stream of pleasure, enjoying the power that could be derived from such acts, but nothing compared to the power he felt when wielding the Force, certainly not any number of slave girls or Separatist traitors.

Eyes fluttering shut, he finally let himself relax after the laborious day he'd endured. A splash inexplicably heard on the opposite side if the wall jolted him out of his peaceful state and put him on high alert. How was it that anyone else had found their way here? This was _his_ haven.

Beyond irritated, he hauled himself up from the water and waded over to the wall, walking along the edge until he saw a wide fissure in the rock, allowing him to see to the other side thanks to the open turret and night sky.

He immediately drew away as if burned when he saw _her_.

The commander, just through a cave he wasn't sure how she'd accessed. She was alone and she was bathing. His initial reaction was to swim even further down the canal as it appeared he was incorrect in his earlier assumption that no one ventured this far, but he stopped himself, a roguish grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he decided to watch the former queen.

He cloaked himself in the Force, calling on it to conceal him lest she spot him the same way he had spotted her. He had soon found it wasn't easy to gain an audience with the higher officers, so having the opportunity to watch his enemy this closely and free of protective eyes sent blood rushing to his temples and his heart racing. She was partially turned away from him, and her hair cascaded in a wild array of chestnut curls down her back. Her skin was painted alabaster in the scant starlight, her slender curves looking soft and…

 _Wait? What!_ Vader didn't care about how she looked. He was there purely to watch her mannerisms, learn of his enemy, drawn to her like a predator would be drawn to their prey. That was _all_.

She had something in her hand, a bar of soap, he guessed, and she ran it through the water, before tilting one leg in the air and working the suds over her skin. Vader couldn't help but think it was quite ill-advised for Amidala to enter the baths without a consort or body guard of some kind. Was there no one to protect her? She clearly was prone to taking rash actions, and it was a wonder to him how she retained any amount of authority at all. Or maybe it was that the spineless cowards that manned the base could not step up and offer their services. It reinforced in Vader's mind just how barbaric the group of people in Farstey really were.

She had moved onto her hair, working the knots and curls on her head and lathering them before rinsing them out again. Vader caught a whiff of the scent, something distinctly floral, like freesia, assaulted his nostrils, and sent a strange giddy feeling to his gut. He wrenched away from his hidden position, grateful for the loud sounds of water lapping up the walls of the cave to cover the splashes he made.

For some puzzling reason, he felt anger churning low in his chest, though why he should be angry with himself he didn't know. _It was illuminating,_ he inwardly consoled himself, _I need to take every opportunity I can to learn more of the higher officers._ He heard shuffling and a sideways glance through the gap revealed she had left the water, heading for a bank on the other side he again wondered how she'd accessed.

Pushing his way over to the edge of his inlet, he sat down stiffly, somehow, not so tired any longer. _No one_ was harder on him than himself, _not even_ his master. He'd become so strict in which emotions he allowed to feel, he rarely ever had to succumb to torture at his master's hands. Yet just now, he had looked on his enemy not with the familiar malice or rage, but with open curiosity, and _that was dangerous_. He knew he should punish himself for the lapse, but he bizarrely didn't want to. No one was there to hold him accountable, and no one would ever know so long as he kept it to himself. _I'm over thinking it. I've simply been cooped up here for days and thinking wildly. I did learn something about my enemy—she's very independent—and I can use that to my advantage_.

Sitting back, he grinned widely, satisfied with his reasoning. He was just starting to relax again, when he was startled yet again, this time by an orange amphibious humanoid, his dome shaped head and oversized eyes spotting Vader immediately.

"Ah, Anakin," The Mon Calamarian greeted kindly.

Vader suppressed a sneer, especially riled by the use of his first name. Was there no where to find privacy in these tunnels?

"Lieutenant Ri," Vader said. "I hadn't realized many people frequented this part of the canals." He was proud he was able to keep the scorn from his voice.

"Not many do." The Lieutenant halted his vigorous swimming, drawing up next to Vader's ledge. "I often like to swim the springs, helps me collect my thoughts."

 _As it does mine_ , he wanted to snarl. He had to remind himself that he couldn't simply kill his way to the top. The reminder quickly became a chant.

"Reminds you of your home planet?"

"It does!" Yos Ri's eyes bulged with his excitement.

Vader was getting pruney and for once, longed for the comfort of his bed and small chambers. He absently wondered how many midi-chlorians the Mon Calamarian had, would he be susceptible to persuasion? To his disappointment, Vader determined he had a lot and was probably more Force-tuned than most.

"I'm glad I ran into you, Anakin."

Vader tried not to cringe again at the use of his former name.

"Your supervisors tell me you are doing well on your assignment, and you've passed through vetting with flying colors."

Vader flashed what he hoped was a disarming grin. "I'm just happy to be able to support the resistance, Lieutenant. I've served myself most of my life, and now it's time to give back."

He bobbed his head several times. "A most noble goal, that's why I'm pleased to inform you of a promotion of sorts."

Vader worked carefully to school his features whilst inwardly hoping he would be given a pilot position. He needed to be in space, where he belonged, not planet-locked.

"Oh?"

"Yes. I'm happy to inform you that your new assignment will start tomorrow in the Space Engineering Sector, as a mechanic."

Vader was careful not to let his disappointment show on his face. What did the Lieutenant think he was—an astrodroid? "I'm very pleased you find me suitable, sir."

The Mon Calamarian nodded. "I have no doubts you will work up to a pilot position in no time, but let's see how you do as a mechanic first."

He clenched and unclenched his jaw. "Of course, Lieutenant."

"Very good, I'll let you get back to your bath now, Anakin."

Vader watched the Lieutenant swim effortlessly away until he disappeared around a corner. He supposed his new work assignment could be worse—he could be stuck in Agriculture. At least this way he'd gain access to the spaceship chamber and be able to make a better assessment of just what the rebels on Farstey were working with. Perhaps the day had ended so badly after all.

**~oOo*oOo~**


	4. Trip to Wild Space

**~oOo*oOo~**

"Commander Amidala," Bail hastened his steps to keep up with the surprisingly quick commander. "What can I do or say to dissuade you from this path?"

Padmé sighed. "I’m afraid nothing—my mind is made up on the matter."

"But Padmé, as your friend, I must inform you of the danger."

"Obviously I'm well aware of the danger aspect." She glanced over her shoulder, her heart clenching at the way her friend truly did look worried for her. Still, he seemed to have no grasp on the gravity of the situation. This wasn't a game, especially where Project Nova was concerned, and she certainly wouldn't see it all go up in flames without a fight. "Honestly, Bail, if you really had wanted to help me, the best way would have been voting with me to take a team. Now I'm left with no choice but to find some mercenary to aid me. Shame on you and Mon both, you know how important _they are_ to the cause. We should have exercised every resource."

"Had I known how headstrong you were—"

"That a simple no would do nothing to stop me?"

"We'd already provided Piell with enough resources—"

She cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Piell has no intention of pursuing anyone with an inactive signal and we both know that. Please don't try to pretend otherwise!"

Bail looked at her with wide eyes, closing the small gap between them and reaching for her wrists. "Padmé, I've failed you."

She balled her hands into fists. Really, there wasn't time for this. She needed to set plans into motion and do so quickly. "Bail, I can assure you, you've done nothing of the sort."

"But the base—"

"I leave it in your, Mon, and Tyro's more than capable hands. Now if you'll excuse me." She quickly disentangled herself from the Alderaanian and headed for the space hangar. Time was not working in her favor.

**~oOo*oOo~**

The rain hadn't let up for two days and any time Vader chanced under an opening, he was pelted with the cold water. Yet another reason why space was such a vast improvement than being eternally grounded; consistency. Certain sections were closed off and he worried the place would be flooded in another day or so, but was surprised to note the way the rebels had strategically cut paths so that excess water would simply run into the canals. Still, the cave floor was slick and Vader had to tread carefully lest he slip.

He'd been at his new work assignment two days, and it was still a struggle in pure discipline to not unleash a Force-fueled fury on droids and workers alike every time he looked at the amount of ships harbored in the hangar he was recently granted access to. By the Sith, the resourcefulness of the rebels was nothing short of astounding! But the urge to stop their progress was forever prevalent and he could hardly focus on simple tasks.

The existence of such a well-stocked base was one thing, really, the fleet could hardly leave a lasting scrape against the power of the Galactic Empire, but how many more such bases were there out there? The thought was staggering, and he wondered if his master underestimated the prowess of the rebels. Would that not be reason enough to blow his cover? He was sure his master could not possibly be aware of such treasonous happenings.

Sure, the Sith Lord knew of altercations here and botched missions there, but Vader suspected the rebels were purposefully keeping their strength hidden for something far greater on the horizon and that was a disturbing notion to consider. Obviously the rebels with their slight interference had to be dealt with in the Galactic Empire's eyes, but what if they were a bigger contender to fear than initially expected? Sidious did not tell Vader how many rebel bases were hidden on planets throughout the galaxy, but if there were more than a few and if they were even half the size of Farstey, this presented an issue that needed to be addressed immediately. It would be an exercise in pure discipline to hold his cover for long enough to discover them all.

He turned his attention to the ship to his left, a relic from the past, but it had blaster capability and could probably hold twenty rebels easily. He began the arduous task of mending the repulsolift, eliciting a droid to help him with the more invasive work, hating the fact that he was actually fixing something of theirs instead of destroying it beyond use.

 _In time_ , he consoled himself.

He glanced up to the rather large opening in the cave ceiling, determining that it would be the perfect spot to drop a disrupter bomb and decimate the whole place, or better yet, test out the emperor's new weapon.

He grinned wickedly at the notion, and despite his hesitancy to help, found himself getting lost in the work, so much so that he did not immediately notice when he was approached.

"This is a Nubian Star Skiff," Amidala's voice startled him out of his private musings.

He suppressed the urge to inform the commander he knew exactly what kind of ship _he_ was working on, instead he jumped down from the ledge to gather more materials.

Nodding, he replied, "From the days of the old Republic."

"And from my planet." Her brown eyes grazed the craft. "One of very few reminders left of my home."

Vader eyed the sleek silver ship dubiously. "It's beautiful," he admitted, "but a thing of the past. You won't see this type of Skiff grace the skies in the numbers they once had."

Her eyes flashed perilously as she crossed her arms over her jumpsuit-clad chest. "Or perhaps you will."

For one wild moment, Vader didn't doubt the slight former queen wouldn't take it upon herself to rebuild the entire Nubian Navy, if the determination etched in every line of her face was any indication.

Vader raised his eyebrows. "Hopefully," he gritted out, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. Then, abruptly changing tactics, he smirked at her coldly. "Was there a reason for your visit today, commander?"

Amidala swallowed, and for just a fraction of a second, her eyes were lost and stormy.

 _Interesting,_ Vader thought.

Steeling her features, she clenched her jaw before responding to him. "I frequent this hangar quite a lot, actually."

He turned his attention away from her, focusing instead on finishing his work. "Of course." He inserted just enough mockery in his tone for it to be obvious he found the statement questionable.

"I often check on new recruits as well."

He nodded once more, practically feeling the agitation rolling off of the commander in waves, and reveling in it.

"Especially ones with shoddy backgrounds such as yours," she added venomously.

He very nearly almost laughed at the quip. He whirled around, hurt etched on his face. "Why commander, you know I only wish to serve the resistance in any capacity you deem suitable."

"Do you?" Her gaze grew hungry and open again and Vader marveled at the spectrum of emotions the woman could experience in a matter of minutes. He could feel them through the Force and it made him feel slightly nauseous. "That's too bad —I pegged you for more of the adventurous sort."

"I said any capacity." He attempted to read her through the Force but could only detect nervousness— _another oddity_.

"Yes, but doesn't this work get _frightfully boring_ after a time?"

His eyes snapped up and his senses became on high alert. What was the woman up to? Whatever it was, he needed to tread carefully. "I'm not sure, commander, I've only just switched sectors. Agriculture was fairly exciting though, I must admit."

She sighed, and took a step forward. "Really? Yes, I imagine laboring day after day in the fields does get one's blood pumping…but what of space?"

Vader caught his breath but quickly schooled his features. "What of it?" he replied smoothly.

"Don't you miss having free reign? Flying wherever you like, and with no one but the stars to accompany you?"

He gave her a derisive glance. "That's usually the case, but sadly, I have a feeling if I were to pilot a craft these days I would be told where to fly and the company would be decidedly lacking."

Amidala bristled but he did not wait for her to respond, instead he rounded the corner of the craft in several long strides. She of course had followed after him.

"You are intolerable, Skywalker."

He grinned, neglecting to turn and face her.

"I have a mission and a I require a pilot. I had thought to give you the opportunity, that you would appreciate the cha—"

"What sort of mission?" he deadpanned.

"That really only concerns me," she sputtered. "I only need to be taxied—"

"Why don't you shuttle yourself?"

"It's a little further than I can go on my own," she said through gritted teeth. "I require a craft capable of hyperspeed and with additional space."

"Ah, and might I know where I'd be _shuttling_ you to, if I were to accept the mission?"

"That's classified until you accept."

"Pity." Vader made a show of selecting tools. "It's obvious we would be traveling somewhere far and out to collect someone important, based on what you've told me, but I would need to know further details before I agreed to a suicide mission."

"It would be a privilege," she informed him crisply.

Cobalt blue bored into chocolate brown eyes. "So _it is_ a suicide mission."

Vader could practically feel the fury emanating from her and it only served to elevate his previously sour mood. "Nevermind. It's clear I was remiss to come to you with this request." With that, the slight commander whirled away.

"I'll do it." He muttered the words just quietly enough that she would doubt she'd even heard them.

"You...what?" She halted in her path and turned to face him.

"I'll need a first mate for this type of craft, so if one of us dies, we're marooned."

"We wouldn't…I wasn't…you don't have to worry about that, Skywalker. I have it completely under control."

Vader fought the urge to roll his eyes. It was demeaning that he, a Sith Lord, was having to put his life at risk for some woman's silly and likely reckless mission, but it was unavoidable. As much as he despised her, she was right, he hated the mundane work, and such a task, no matter the impossibility of it, granted him the opportunity to climb out of his lowly position, especially if he ensured he made the impossible possible.

"Thank you, Skywalker." The sound of her voice was suddenly far too close and Vader wanted nothing but to wrench away. How dare the woman invade his space like that! "It means a lot that you would pilot for me. I promise to make it quick. We'll be back quickly and there may even be a promotion in it for you."

He held his body rigidly, wishing she would back away and give him room to breathe. "When do we leave?"

"As soon as we can. Today would be preferential."

He nodded. "I'm ready when you are."

**~oOo*oOo~**

Padmé kept her eyes trained ahead on the rapidly darkening sky and not on her less than desirable company she was forced to seek help from. There was something about Skywalker that struck her as distinctly untrustworthy. Perhaps it was his past as a mercenary and her suspicion that he would betray her should a more favorable opportunity present itself, but there was something unsettling about him that kept her on edge.

Still, the man was a passable pilot, of that she was sure. He dipped the _Azure_ up with practiced ease through the wide mouth of the cave. His fingers flew over the numerous buttons and dials on the panel, and she briefly doubted he would require her assistance at all. The muscles rippled in his arms as he continued to navigate the craft through the air as if orchestrating a complex but well-practiced symphony, and she was reminded of just how out-strengthened she was by her current partner. _No matter, I'm the one with the blaster._

"Activate the acceleration compensator," he gestured to the button on her left, "that one there," he instructed, as if he were quite used to giving commands.

"I know which one it is," she seethed before she could stop herself, switching back the lever with more force than she needed. "Thanks for _actually_ letting me do something," she grumbled.

He neglected to dignify her with a response and Padmé got the feeling he wasn't one to talk much. _All the better,_ she mused. _I need to focus and be the commander I was elected to be, not a snarky child._ She had no doubt the peers she left behind probably did believe she was acting rather childish, but she was confident they'd be singing a different tune once her so called _pointless mission_ proved to be not to pointless after all.

"Your friends didn't seem very pleased to see you depart," Skywalker said, sitting back comfortably as he guided the Azure to the edge of Farstey's atmosphere.

 _So he speaks._ She remembered the way Tyro and Bail had stood in the hangar, watching, as she'd entered the cockpit, arms crossed and looking like they would both rather storm the craft and physically grab her if they had any say in the matter.

" _How do you know you can trust him, of all people?" Tyro had asked. "He's a new recruit and a pay-for-hire."_

_Bail had nodded furiously, appealing to her in one last-ditch effort to change her mind. "What's to stop the man from overpowering you once you're in space and commandeering the craft? You should wait until Piell returns so you could at least take a couple of soldiers with you, or a droid at the very least."_

" _Mon already said I was wasting resources by taking the Skiff, which is rightfully mine, by the way, she won't allow I take any others besides a pilot who has volunteered willingly, and I'm not waiting for droids which we already lack in numbers," she had informed them through gritted teeth. "Besides, I have a blaster. Should he decide a more fortuitous opportunity awaits, he will soon discover what happens to those that cross me. I'll simply take a pod and flee the craft."_

" _Abandon the Azure?" Tyro had frowned at the notion._

" _If I have to."_

"There was a slight disagreement over the value of this mission," she said coldly. "Obviously, I find it worth the risk to plunge on ahead, despite being unsupported."

Skywalker didn't push her, and for that she was grateful. Regardless of her natural annoyance for the man whom she couldn't quite figure it out, he was actually rather calm, _a welcome change_. Was it even fair that she was so immediately wary of him? She'd read his story via scanner, knew of the hardships he likely endured as a slave, and he'd obviously went against the Empire to end in their clutches. Perhaps he really did want to travel the path of redemption? Their time together would at least give her more insight on the mysterious recruit.

"We've left Farstey's atmosphere," he said, stating the obvious. "Am I now at least permitted to know what course I will be setting?"

She bit her lip, doubt flickering across her mind as she wondered if he would have regrets once she revealed more of the mission to him. "Set a course for Indoumodo, Skywalker," she said in the most commanding tone she could muster, before reciting the coordinates of the last signal she had received.

She chanced a glance at the pilot, who was silently punching in coordinates on the keypad. The only reaction she could detect from him was a slight tightening of the jaw. The man was maddeningly good at concealing his feelings and Padmé hated that she found it so difficult to read him; she was usually quite excellent at that, but that particular skill did not seem to come in handy where he was concerned.

"Care to elaborate?" he asked mildly, his tone contrasted with the tenseness she sensed.

"What's there to elaborate?" She furrowed her brows in confusion.

"I've just set a course deep into Wild Space, for a planet that's highly uncivilized, and neither friendly to Resistance fighters or Imperials alike, you don't think that calls for more of an explanation?"

Padmé hated the way Skywalker seemed to have the uncanny ability to make her feel small. She was the commanding officer, yet here he was, addressing her as if he ran the galaxy, and was hardly the lowly mechanic that had just been saved by her team from the Farstey Mines.

"We are simply plucking two very valuable members, part of my _personal team_ , from the last place they were heard from, as I already told you. Don't worry about it; you won't have to do much, just touch the _Azure_ down by their ship and I'll retrieve them."

"Venomous insects don't give you pause, then?"

"I see no reason for us to run into them."

"Kouhuns roam the forests in massive numbers, and they're nothing to be trifled with. They hunt larger beasts for sport, suppose they come across humans?"

Padmé angled her head to face him, watching as he gracefully jumped the ship into hyperspace and the stars passed in a white and black blur around them. "You seem very knowledgeable on the subject," she retorted.

"You're deflecting." His sharp blue eyes didn't miss the way she swallowed audibly. "The two of them must be some precious cargo to risk so much."

"They are," she answered evasively.

"Might I know who is so important that I'm risking my life for them?"

She briefly hesitated, before answering, "My personal pilot that's been with me since Naboo—Soro. And my friend… Ben."

"A friend," a wry grin immediately pulled at the corner of his lips, "you mean—like a boyfriend?"

She bristled, shooting him a scornful look. "That's highly inappropriate to ask such a question."

"That would explain such rashness."

Padmé suppressed the familiar annoyance she got whenever anyone felt the need to inform her about her impulsiveness. "I don't believe I've asked for your opinion, and I'm offended you would insinuate I would compromise lives and resources I'm accountable based on… " she faltered, "I don't know— _love_?"

"I'm just going off experience."

"So you're familiar with such a predicament," she prodded. For some reason, the idea of the admittedly handsome pilot being ruled by that such emotion intrigued her.

"No, simply, situations I've witnessed when others have made reckless decisions based on their feelings," he scorned cruelly.

She blanched, taken aback by the abrupt shift in his attitude. "Oh. Well, I suppose I can only do my best to assure you my intentions are noble. I believe in this mission, and find it crucial where the Resistance efforts are concerned. Do well for me in this and I'll put in a good word for you when we return."

He nodded, but suspicion still burned in his eyes. His piercing blue gaze seemed capable of cutting right through her and it made her feel the oddest of feelings, almost as if there were a conduit, _a one-way conduit_ , and as difficult as she found him to read, for a brief second she had the horrifying notion he could see right through her. She found the idea that he could sense her very mood, and possibly _much more_ , highly disturbing, and she had to physically wrench her eyes from his stare to shake the troubling thought.

"Don't worry, Skywalker," she said, injecting mock sympathy into her voice. "Just help me find my men, my pilot, and I'll be rid of you. You won't have to worry about risking your neck for any more of my impetuous missions."

His handsome features twisted in a scowl. "Just don't be angry with me if we arrive to find they are already long dead."

**~oOo*oOo~**


	5. Indoumodo

****

**~oOo*oOo~**

The hum of the spacecraft was mildly hypnotic and Vader found himself quickly be lulled to a rather peaceful state. That coupled with the swirls of blurred stars passing by the craft as they sailed through hyperspace, and he probably could have almost taken a nap and enjoyed the brief interlude afforded to him thanks to the _Azure's_ auto pilot feature.

_Almost._

Beside him Amidala sighed loudly, regrettably not for the first time.

His eyes fluttered open as he chanced her a glance, noticing the careless way in which she'd draped herself across the co-pilot's seat, curling her legs, and leaning her elbows on the edge of the chair as she flicked her way through article after article on her holo-tablet.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked through gritted teeth, hoping more than anything that the commander would realize her loud habits were rude, and detect the sharp undercurrent of his words.

"What?" She peered up at him, her gaze heavy lidded and confused. "Oh, sorry." She grinned sheepishly. "Just reading."

 _Good,_ Vader thought. _Perhaps now she'll shut up and leave me in peace. Dare I hope?_ He rested his head back against the chair and tried to physically wrench the troublesome commander from his mind—a task much easier said than done. How he'd ended up in this pathetic situation was beyond him. That Amidala had managed to finagle his compliance was an amazing feat in itself. Perhaps she had some skill for politics yet? For he must have been mad to agree to such a reckless endeavor. _She was just fortunate such folly happened to suit my interest—I remain invariably in control._

"Well," she interrupted his thoughts once more, leaning forward earnestly on her forearms to look at him. "Now that I know you're awake, you'd be simply amazed if you could see this propaganda—, this _garbage_ the Empire is putting out in the galaxy."

With each word she uttered, the pitch of her voice got grew shrill, and he knew his desire for silence and a brief reprieve from this nightmare was a lost cause. "Oh," he hedged smoothly, concealing his revulsion effortlessly. "How so?"

"Obviously the emperor tumbles heads of planets left and right, in order to place his own candidate in office…"

Vader's jaw tightened but he forced his body calm as he heard the abhorrent woman beside him continue to spew her nonsense.

"...but what they've put out about the Iliums? Skywalker, it's utter tripe—I'm telling you. They must think people are brainless to even buy any of it."

"Ilum resisted the Empire's request to build a base there, they denied the Empire's right to harvest the planet's minerals, they weren't being compliant." He was mildly befuddled by the commander's apparent outrage over the matter.

Amidala twisted her face in a very unqueenly fashion. " _The right?_ As if they would just take a portion of the rare minerals and save the rest for the locals?"

Vader did not appreciate the mockery evident in her tone. "They would have been better off coming to an agreement—,"

"You can't come to an agreement with a dictatorship," she stressed, her chocolate gaze turning stormy as her passion rose. "The only reason they wanted _a base_ on Ilum was to harvest the kyber crystals in the multitude of caves underground, a place that had been held sacred by the Jedis."

"The Jedis are no more," he needlessly reminded her. "Why should the caves be preserved for them?"

"Living crystals are rare and should not simply be pillaged from the earth." She gestured wildly to the tablet in her hand. "The Imperials say that Ilium inhabitants were hostile and therefore _removed from the planet,_ a kind way of saying they'll all dead or being held captive. There were not so many to rid, what with the place being inhospitable as it was, but the truth is Star Destroyers have landed on Ilum, and are harvesting all of the karbonite from the planet. The ice caverns are being destroyed thanks to the Emperor's greed, and if you went there today, you would see that Ilum has been carved and cut into, exposing the rocks and lava deep in the planet's core. It's a tragedy of the _worse_ sort."

Vader wasn't sure how to react. He knew exactly how many Star Destroyers graced the planet, he had issued the order himself to harvest the crystals for light sabers and other Sith weapons. The local inhabitants were nothing but an obstacle in need of permanent removal. The fact that the commander knew the true state of things on Ilum sent a palpable thread of rage coursing through him. Were there spies on the planet? What did the rebels need with kyber crystals? _There's nothing they could do with them,_ he thought viciously.

He worked hard to dredge up a suitable answer for her. She was obviously angry, and if he said something contrary, that would only incite her still, if not oust him. "The galaxy needs to know the Empire's purpose for residing on the planet."

It was almost comical, really, the way her features immediately softened.

"Too true, Skywalker."

"How have you come to the conclusion the Empire is misinforming the galaxy, anyway?"

Amidala smirked suddenly, as if nursing some precious secret—one Vader was _dying_ to get his hands on. "Let's just say I've seen contrary holo-broadcastings myself and know there are no bases, merely ships tearing up the planet."

So she was being evasive? No matter, he would get the information out of her eventually. He added it to a mental list he'd been preparing in his head. Perhaps he may even be gifted with the opportunity of torturing her for further entail. The thought alone caused him to breathe easier.

"What do rebels need with kyber crystals anyhow?" he muttered, before he could stop himself.

"First and foremost, we need the Sith to cease construction of their superweapons." She leveled her intense gaze at him. "Why does it bother you so?"

He wracked his brain quickly in an effort to search for an appropriate response. "I'd always...looked up to the Jedi," he gritted out. "I care about preserving their legacy."

Amidala suddenly smiled brilliantly, but that wasn't all, she leaned forward in her excitement, clasping his arm as if to press a point, causing him to immediately go taut with tension at the foreign feeling of human touch. She squeezed him lightly, and he just barely caught the scent of her hair, the very same scent he smelled back in the caverns but much stronger—some sort of vanilla floral mingled with citrus. By the Sith, what sorcery was this? It took every ounce of determination not to wrench away from her and physically shake his head in order to clear his brain.

"I know just what you mean," she assured him, eyes gleaming intently. "I too looked up to the Jedi, but I believe there is hope."

Vader bristled at her words, feeling dark fury beginning to build low in his abdomen. He was consumed with the sudden need to throw the girl aside. _How wrong you are about me,_ he mused. _I'm to thank for your substantial losses._ But this is what he had hoped for, what his master had ordered him to work for—trust, and each hour he was getting ever closer to securing hers.

He forced a smile on his lips, hoping that it didn't look as feral as he felt. "I too have hope," he lied easily.

It seemed to satisfy the gullible commander, she sat back and he took in grateful gulps air again. Damn her, what business did she have polluting his air? The nerve of the woman. He could not stand these close quarters for much longer.

"Are you hungry?" she asked brightly, seemingly unaware of his discomfort. "We have bars, they're Barolian, and not very good, but nutritious just the same."

She reached into her satchel before pulling out a silver-wrapped bar and handing it to him.

"Barolian?"

She nodded vigorously. "From our co-op."

 _So Baroli houses another base._ He tried to pull back the predatory gleam in his eye as he appraised the busy commander, who was searching for more food from her satchel. _Keep slipping, lovely, keep telling me all your secrets. Perhaps I'll have you singing them to me before this is all over._

Feeling somewhat better, he decided to cherish his time with the commander instead of spoiling his days deploring it. After all, it was she that would ultimately pay the price in the end, even if she was thus far clueless.

"Thanks," he murmured, accepting the jerky she handed him.

"It's from Farstey," she assured him. "The food is much better there, even dried and stretched like this."

Vader would give the rebels that—the food he'd indulged in on Farstey was lightyears better than any he'd sampled in an Imperial cafeteria.

"We should be arriving soon," she commented, unwrapping her meal.

"Yes," he confirmed. "In a few hours."

"You should get some rest."

He despised the authoritative tone in her voice, and the brief concern that flickered over her eyes.

"I mean to."

**~oOo*oOo~**

Skywalker was driving Padmé crazy. It was bad enough the man insisted on circling Indoumodo's atmosphere until he determined the sky would be dark enough to land in the area where she'd last received the signal, but he seemed bent on controlling every aspect of _her mission_. She didn't care how dark or light it was, she wanted to run straight off of the vessel and onto the ship, possibly into the jungles, even, in search of her friends.

" _It will only be another hour before the darkness settles," he had informed her. "Surely nothing more will happen in an hour that hasn't happened in a week."_

She was forced to agree with him, of course. Whatever his faults, Padmé could see reason in his words. Besides, he was the one flying the craft. So they'd waited, but now? She was ready to plunge headfirst into whatever awaited her, regardless if that happened to be danger.

"Skywalker, it's time we leaved." She anxiously ran her hands down the material of her jumpsuit, glancing toward the cockpit door, and then back at the infuriating pilot, who was busy searching for something. "What are you doing?"

"We need weapons. Did you really not bring any weapons aboard this ship?"

Padmé swallowed discreetly. "I have a weapon." Her fingers itched to hold the handle of her blaster, nestled protectively in her holster. "This is really rather silly—you don't need a weapon—they're merely in the ship we parked next to and we only need to retrieve them."

He rolled his eyes skyward, as if he found her _rather silly._ "That's all well and good, but I cannot stress the importance of arming me."

Her eyes hardened, as she reached for her cloak, snapping it around her shoulders. "You haven't earned the right to be armed yet."

She expected he may argue with her further, but he merely set his jaw, and followed her to the exit. "You're really optimistic aren't you?"

"I've been told I'm very level-headed," she lied.

"I really hope you don't hold it against me if we find them dead."

She shot him a reproachful look. "I'd be most grateful. It wouldn't be your fault if something untoward happened."

"So this is for your peace of mind, then?" he nearly growled. "What a luxury."

She opened the cockpit door and walked through. "Ben really is quite important, not only to myself, but to the resistance. I can't understand why they wouldn't be sending the entire fleet in search for him."

"Is he another commander?"

"He should be. He's turned down the post many times."

"What sort of man turns down power?"

She stepped tentatively onto the soft dirt floor, noticing immediately how much heavier the air on this planet was to breathe. "The sort who is pure of heart in every way."

Beside her, she heard Skywalker snort in disbelief. It was fine, what did she care what he thought? Soon she would be reunited with her most trusted advisors, and that was all that mattered.

"Great idea to go trapezing through the dark, Skywalker. I can barely make out anything."

She felt strong hands come up to squeeze her shoulders and she tensed immediately at his touch. "Perhaps try using the starlight to catch a glimpse of metal, you know, like that huge arch over there? You were heading to the forest." She let him steer her around and spotted the outline of a ship other than their own, just as he promised.

"Thanks ever so much," she called snarkily. "Perhaps you have some use other than simply annoying people."

"I annoy people?"

"Mhm."

They walked toward the ship, Skywalker hissing at the sounds the leaves and twigs made when she walked over them.

"What's the problem? I thought it was you who suggested we wait until after dark."

"Some species of Kouhuns are nocturnal."

"Well, why did we wait then?"

"It's easier to move about in darkness."

His words made her feel strangely haunted, as if there was a double meaning behind them, but she pushed the notion aside, the excitement of finding her friends building and taking over every thought.

They reached the door of the other ship, only it wasn't a matter of simply opening it. The axis of the speeder was skewed, and tilted horribly. For the first time, Padmé felt a sick feeling churn low in her abdomen.

"It looks abandoned," Skywalker said, stating the obvious.

She pressed her lips in a thin line, determination flaring alive inside her chest. "Just because it looks abandoned doesn't mean it's not being used as refuge."

"So you're suggesting we climb inside?"

She rolled her eyes. "We didn't fly all the way here, just to gawk, did we?"

"I suppose not."

"Can you give me a lift?"

He sighed, but she soon felt his hands on her hips as he lifted her easily off the ground. She reached for the ledge of the open door, and hauled herself over it, hissing when she scraped against something jagged and sharp. She wasted no time straightening to a low crouch, balancing on the ship's tilt and turning to see of Skywalker needed help. It was pointless to even consider. Skywalker navigated over the ledge with an ease that made her scowl instantly.

"There'll be a generator lever on one of these walls," he said, brushing past her in an effort to find it first.

"Obviously."

She hastened to the opposite wall of the craft, hoping to find it before him. Again, it was pointless, the man seemed capable of besting her at every turn. Dim lights flickered on, illuminating the darkness with an eerie yellow glow. Her eyes immediately drew to the pilot's seat, her heart soaring when she discovered them empty. Despite her forced optimism, the image of her friends dead and rotting had plagued her for the past five nights.

"They're alive," she breathed. "They probably just went in search for fresh water, but they're okay. Maybe they'll be back soon."

"One of them is alive," Skywalker corrected drily. "I'm not sure which of your friends this was."

Padmé ran over, a blinding panic seeping its way into her mind. In her haste she slipped on the floor, having trouble navigating the tilted slope. She scrambled quickly up and walked over to where he was standing, looking down at the grotesquely occupied bunk.

"Soro," the name tumbled from her lips of its own accord.

"Your pilot."

She nodded, unable to rip her eyes from the sight of her friend she'd known since childhood. Numbness seeped through her body and she stood paralyzed with shock.

"Someone took the time to lay him over here," Skywalker reasoned. "That means there's hope for the other."

Padmé balled her hands into fists. "You really know how to speak eloquently in front of those who are grieving," she spat. "This was my friend whom I cared deeply for."

"We can't stay here," he said, ignoring her anger. "It isn't safe."

He didn't even wait to see if she would follow before he strode carelessly towards the exit of the speeder.

Padmé rushed after him, careful not to lose her footing this time. "You don't make the rules," she grumbled. "We need to get Soro safely back in our ship and take his body to Farstey."

Her words didn't halt him, and he hardly slowed as he flickered off the lights in passing. She had a hankering to reach for her blaster and point it at him if he continued ignoring her. He reached the ship's opening in no time, and she was right on his heels.

"The dead can wait. The living not so much."

She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, then opened it again. _Damn him and his logic!_

"Whatever you're going to say, just swallow it back down and look."

He pointed towards the thick foliage of trees that guarded the clearing. Just past them she saw flickering orange light, deep in the jungle, and smoke rising in the starry night's sky.

"Perhaps your other friend is there, and hopefully alive, not yet on someone's dinner menu?"

The hope creeping back up her chest flickered precariously at his insensitive words.

"Hopefully," she bit out.

"Do I get a weapon now?"

Padmé wished she could slap the smug look off of his face. _Gods, but he'd better be there_ , she thought in a mad panic, a murderous glint burning in her eyes as she watched Skywalker's elegant and sinuous form surge ahead of her gracefully _and soundlessly_ towards _The Azure._ She found her step hastening to keep sight of him in the darkness, which only made her footsteps louder and probably earned her a look of disapproval from Skywalker—she could just _feel it_. _Please be here, Ben,_ she prayed desperately. _This can't all have been for nothing._

**~oOo*oOo~**


	6. A Brief Interlude

**~oOo*oOo~**

This was madness.

Vader walked through the wet jungle seething. It had instantly began to pour and his hair was plastered to his face. His fingers tightened around the hilt of the sleek Nubian blade Amidala had _oh-so-graciously_ allowed him.

Of course it couldn't simply be a normal rain—a light shower he could easily ignore.

That would be _too easy._

No.

It had to be chaotic, gigantic drops that furiously pelted him as he traversed through the cursed jungle. His hood was pulled tightly around his head, but that did nothing against the ruthless and sudden onslaught of stinging water. Only the adrenaline pumping through his veins kept him focused, kept him from succumbing to the cold.

Every nerve ending was heightened and aware. He was ready for an attack from any direction. He realized they were at a disadvantage from being on a planet little was known about. He came here expecting a fight, unlike the rebels who'd rather cling to their hopeful delusions, he was _always_ prepared for the worse.

It was too bad he wasn't on the mission by himself.

It was hard to hear anything above the howling wind and the sound of rain as it hit the leaves then the ground, but Vader did not miss the incessant chattering coming from behind him. One glance back confirmed his suspicions. The commander's shoulders shook rapidly, regardless of the cloak she gripped forcefully around her slight frame. She was still shivering uncontrollably.

Vader pressed his lips together in annoyance. She would only hinder him. He would get far more accomplished sans the Nubian royal. In truth, he was mildly surprised she'd even managed to keep up this far. Somehow, he'd expected her to be averse to the brutal pace he'd set, whining and asking for constant breaks, but she hadn't complained once, and she was never more than a few steps behind him, despite how slippery the ground was becoming.

He shot another stealthy look behind him, unable to make much out in the darkness, but he didn't miss the way her chin jutted out defiantly—she was nothing if not persistent. He could have suggested she wait back at the ship, not like he cared for her comfort, but he somehow knew she wouldn't take his console on the matter. She was determined to involve herself in the mission, and it was abundantly clear how important it was to her. There would have been no dissuading her.

Weakness.

She was pathetic and so pityingly vulnerable.

It made his lips curl in aversion. Never would he yield to such a lost cause if it didn't ultimately benefit him. Her weakness was directly due to her propensity to benefit others, despite any negative effect it could have on her. That was simply not a trait he admired in people. He'd weeded it out in himself early on.

He automatically walked around and upturned tree root, and he instinctively turned to aid Amidala, knowing her fall would be imminent if he didn't intervene.

Okay, maybe he hadn't quite weeded it out.

But he consoled himself with the fact that he only helped her because it suited him to do so.

Still, he was angry.

He grasped her arm, and she only narrowly avoided slipping, but she still let out a gasp of pain as she tilted precariously.

"Watch where you're going," he spat. Nostrils flaring, he straightened her easily. "This clearly isn't going to work."

"S-sorry," she mumbled pitifully.

He ignored her apology—just another display of weakness. When he spoke again, it was more to himself. "We're obviously going to have to rest for a moment." His eyes quickly scanned the dark forest. There was nothing in the immediate area but towering trees interrupted by the occasional cluster of rocks.

The rocks.

Surely there would be a natural alcove in one of them that could serve as a suitable shelter?

"Come on," he bid, not waiting to see if she complied.

For the first time in three hours, he shifted directions from the course he'd set for them, making for an especially large area of rocks.

"We can't see the smoke anymore, and we're making little progress as it is, but I recall the direction. We'll simply have to rest for a moment and hope that the rain ends as quickly as it started."

He strode up to the arrangement of rocks and effortlessly pulled himself over the slick stone, wasting no time getting to higher ground and climbing up another. He sensed the commander scrambling after him but did not pause to help. He hoped she would slip—it would serve as a suitable punishment for dragging him here in the first place.

About halfway up they reached a rock that shrouded another. The space underneath was just large enough to sit under, and blessedly dry by the crease.

"This will do," he determined, surprise registering in his face when he found that the commander had managed to keep up with him.

Amidala dragged herself to the far side of the rock, quickly sitting and pulling her knees to her chest in a defensive gesture. He sat beside her, pressing his back against the stone and noting distastefully the way the wind still blew through the exposed area. Surreptitiously calling on the Force, he compelled the wind another direction, and breathed a sigh of relief at the immediate comfort the act afforded him.

Next to him, Amidala still shook like a leaf, her small hands visibly clenching legs as if she could get them to stop shivering by that act alone. She was so…

Burdensome.

Yes, that was the word.

Keeping up with her was a rather arduous task.

"What of the Kouhuns?" she ventured tremulously. "I thought you said some species were nocturnal. Aren't we just easy targets, here?"

"This is a good vantage point, and I'll be the first to admit I don't know _everything_ about this planet—or did you forget it was uncivilized and uncolonized?"

"We don't know all the details, that's clear."

Vader blew out an angry breath through his nose. "We're lucky the air is even breathable."

Ever the optimist, of course Amidala had something hopeful to say. "At least we made it this far. Perhaps you're right and a small rest will do us some good."

Her propensity to find the good in everything made him nauseous.

 _Not all of us have the luxury of hope,_ he thought vexedly. "An interlude, but just a small one; we don't know if the smoke we saw belonged to a group that's traveling, as we are. Perhaps we have more ground to make up than we thought."

"Force, I hope not." Amidala nestled her head in her arms. "I'd hate to wander so far from the ship."

The tension was thick and stifling between them. The darkness made it worse, if that was possible. He could just feel the worry rolling off of her.

The ungrateful bint.

He'd obviously went to great lengths just so they were able to make it this far. She clearly needed a lesson in manners. One he would be happy to oblige once this farce of a mission was over—and he wasn't talking about _her mission._

"You should take off your cloak," he suggested, moving to do the same.

"Why?"

He spread his own cloak out next to him. "It would be better if we sat closer—shared body heat." _Better for you at least,_ he added snidely. "This way, our cloaks may have a chance of drying." They _would_ dry—he would _see to it._

Shock exploded across her features. "I beg your pardon? I wouldn't, that is...I'm _not,_ well...it simply wouldn't be appropriate."

"Don't make a fool out of yourself," he chided. "It's basic survival methods. Surely a commander would know as much. We are both human, after all."

"So you say," she muttered under her breath, but reluctantly took off her cloak anyway and sidled next to him.

Vader rolled his eyes at the blatant doubt in her innuendo. "Such a child."

He awkwardly put his arm around her in an effort to get the most out of the warm body that pressed against him. Why was he being so gentle anyway, especially considering all she had _already_ put him through? She should pay for her transgressions. _In time,_ he consoled himself. More confidently, he let his hand drop from her shoulder to her hip, and pulled her roughly closer. She let out a squeak of surprise and he almost laughed at her apparent distress. She punished him by pressing her icy cold hands underneath his sleeve, against the warm skin of his forearm.

Her—punishing _him!_

"Get your hands off me," he snarled, but he did not wrench away as he wanted to.

"Says the man who has his fingers digging into my waist," she snarked. "You're just full of double standards."

It was an exercise in pure futility to resist pushing the helpless woman off of the rocky cliff. "I'm helping _you_ ," he gritted out. "You're just making me colder."

She sighed into his arm and then - _lightly rested?_ \- her head on his shoulder. _Was she mad?_ She hummed her content. "But I'm warmer, and that's all that matters."

Was she being playful, now? Vader could not, for the life of him, figure out his forced counterpart. She was an enigma. She certainly had no concept of what was good for her. She was partnered up with the most lethal Sith in the galaxy, and what does she do? _Nuzzles into my side as if I'm some friendly Wookie._

"I'm sorry," she inexplicably said out of nowhere. "I don't want to snap at you, I'm just worried...about what we'll find."

"A healthy concern." His rage lessened measurably.

"I know."

To his annoyance, she burrowed further into him. Her loosely bound hair was tickling his chin, and he couldn't stand the scent of it. Yes, he definitely did not find the smell that drifted in his nostrils pleasant in any way. Some might call the scent of freesia mingled with citrus sweet, but it was more like _sickly-sweet_.

"And you're right," she added, the words somehow easing his mood even more. He fought to stay angry. Seven Sith Hells, the woman was _offputting._ "I get that this is a lot more dangerous than I had initially anticipated."

Vader said nothing. What could he say? She was finally seeing the error of her ways.

She suddenly swiveled her head up at him, concern etched on her dainty features. "You don't regret coming, do you?" she asked urgently. "I know this isn't exactly what I had promised…" she trailed off uncertainly.

The vulnerability evident in her face made something strange flare up in his chest. It was…

More nauseousness, of course, the woman made him sick.

"I knew what I was agreeing to when I accepted your invitation, commander," he replied listlessly. "You certainly don't need to lose any sleep over it."

"Sleep?" A laugh tumbled from her lips. "I'm not going to get any of _that_ anytime soon."

 _Please go to sleep,_ he silently intoned. Better than her making small-talk.

"What would you be doing if you could be doing anything right now?"

Blast it all. Did she just have some inherent trigger that caused her to always do the opposite of what he wanted? How did one go about switching it off? There was one thing he could do…

"Pod-racing," he answered automatically.

"Pod-racing?" she echoed in disbelief. "I somehow was not expecting you to say that. But I guess that makes sense—you being from Tatooine and all."

He raised his hand, and abruptly she fell silent, falling even more heavily onto his shoulder in a deep, Force-compelled slumber.

That was _much better_. He didn't fancy talking about himself or his... _prior life_ with the far too curious commander, especially when she should be resting. If the rain didn't yield and they had a few more hours of trekking through the jungle, she would need her energy.

Besides, now he could _relax._

Only he couldn't relax.

He became acutely aware of the feel of her feminine curves beneath his hand. Her body was warm and pliant. The heat of her skin against his felt glorious. How had he not noticed before?

He abruptly felt a different type of discomfort that had _nothing_ to do with the cold. The feel of her so intimately pressed against him was foreign—he was completely unfamiliar with the sensation of others touching him.

He swallowed audibly.

He grew tense with the effort to rein his body in. He wanted to burrow his nose into her hair, to let his hand wander up and down her side.

He should not be wanting those things.

It was weak.

When he took a woman, there were no silly desires to do worthless things like that. Sex was about power, and power alone. Damn her for... _befuddling his mind_! He knew she was asleep, he knew he was the one that _put her to sleep,_ but he couldn't help blaming his uncomfortable state on her, however innocent and oblivious she seemed.

His eyes sparkled with a new onslaught of rage...and something else he didn't dare investigate.

He always stayed in control, especially where his body was concerned. Relenting control to others meant that they had power over him, and he would never do something so weak!

He rested his head against the stone, willing his tumultuous thoughts to relax. He was in for a long night and it seemed he would not be getting much rest after all.

**~oOo*oOo~**

When Padmé awoke, she felt wholly enveloped in warmth. She was holding onto something soft, draped over something else that was a lot more comfortable than her mat on Farstey. She didn't want to open her eyes, but she had felt compelled to wake up.

She stretched languidly, relishing in the warmth and the softness. She hadn't felt so rested in weeks.

"Can you _not_?" a deeply masculine, inexplicably agitated voice hissed from above her.

Her eyes flew open and her lips parted in shock. "Skywalker?" Please let her not be laying on top of _him_ this whole time.

"Who else would it be?" he asked with a sneer.

It was definitely Skywalker.

Fueled into motion, her fingers flexed and squeezed over the - oh dear goddess! - _his thigh_? - as she made to get up from her horribly embarrassing position.

"Stop moving," he said around a growl.

Padmé froze, and swallowed discreetly as her eyes desperately attempted to adjust to the darkness, somehow lighter than before, but her sleep-addled eyes were too tired to see clearly—to think clearly! Because, it was impossible of course, but she had felt something _hard_ brush against her bum. _Dear gods, please let that be the hilt of his steel!_

But she feared it was a different sort of steel entirely, and it sent her heart to racing.

 _Pretend you didn't notice anything!_ She screamed in her mind. _Pretend like everything is normal._

The world was slowly coming into view, and she could barely make out the skyline she had went to sleep to—wait—when had she fallen asleep? She couldn't remember the exact moment, but she must have been very tired to rest her eyes during a brief interlude. How mortifying! Cheeks blushing crimson, acutely aware of the man behind her, she slowly eased herself up and safely over him, careful to put much needed distance between them.

She wasn't _dimwitted._ She'd been forced to bunk in close quarters with soldiers, with men, before. She knew what sometimes happened in the early mornings, what rose with the sun. She clapped a hand over her mouth lest she let a giggle escape. Such a lapse would _not_ be prudent. _Get it together,_ she ordered herself. Heat flooded her body and she frowned wondering if... _no._ It did not mean _that._ Skywalker held no feelings towards her save irritation. This was simply the natural state of things and _nothing more._

Still, she couldn't bring herself to look at him. Hopefully the scant darkness hid her blush! "I fell asleep?" she asked far too breathlessly.

"Obviously."

Okay, that was definitely a growl.

Gulping, she chanced a glance at him with widened eyes. His gaze was so intense it looked like it could cut through stone, thank Force it wasn't directed at her! What did he hope to do, singe the landscape with his stare?

Hoping to ease his embarrassment - anger -whatever odd emotion he was grappling with, she reached for her surprisingly dry cloak and pulled it hastily around her, as if it were shield.

"Should we…?"

"Yes," he bit out, making to get up immediately.

She scrambled after him, her heart soaring when she had discovered the rain had stopped. _Seems I woke up at the perfect time._

She felt invigorated.

They were down the rocks in seconds and despite being turned around, Skywalker seemed instinctively to know where to go. She followed with a skip in her step. She felt loads better than she had when they'd started out—and that was on a full belly!

"Did you get any sleep?" she asked delicately, wanting to at least break the tension between them.

"Not much." He somehow managed to find a trail between the maze of trees. "You turn a lot in your sleep."

"Oh." She gulped again. This was beyond embarrassing. What exactly had she done in her state of unconsciousness? "Are you sure you remember what direction to go?" She was so turned around, she wasn't sure which way was which. Thank the Force for Skywalker.

He stopped and abruptly whirled to face her. She couldn't help but lurch back, she was so jumpy today! But then that electrifying blue gaze was on her, and it was _angry_ , and she was helplessly trapped in them.

"Do you hear that?" He continued to stare at her intently.

 _Hear what?_ She could hear nothing above the sound of her hammering heart. Dear gods, was that what he was referring to? She felt her cheeks grow even hotter, _if that was possible_.

"The drums," he hedged.

Wait, what? Was there really the sound of drums in the distance? She would die of humiliation before the day was up, to say nothing of the Kouhuns. She calmed her tumultuous nerves and sure enough, the unmistakable sound of a drum echoed in the distance.

"Oh."

"Yes, _oh._ "

He turned away from her and in a few strides was so far, she had to jog to catch up. _Focus on the mission!_ Force, what was wrong with her? She'd never been so stupidly unaware of her surroundings in all her life. Skywalker must think she was a complete and utter liability!

As they strode on, the sound of the drums grew louder. Padmé quickly tried to get a hold on her frenetic thoughts. She gripped the handle of her blaster in an effort to focus. Now was not the time to be sloppy. This could get bad rather quickly.

Suppose they were outnumbered? Two to five, or more! Would she have time to shoot her way through with a blaster? Perhaps she should have handed the blaster over to him after all…

Uncertainty surged hot and alive inside her chest.

She was never uncertain!

What was wrong with her?

Clenching her jaw, she followed on, determined to show him she was not useless. The next time there was something to spot, it would be _her_ that told _him_.

He suddenly lifted his hand in the air, in an almost regal gesture, not even looking to see if she obeyed his blatant order to come to a halt.

He only spotted things first because he was in the lead. The thought snidely flickered through her brain.

Turning to face her, he mouthed silently, _a sentry._

Unspeakable horror washed over her as she read his lips. Her heart plummeted.

A sentry!

That meant there were more. Forget being outnumbered by four or five, what if there was a whole group of them? They were unprepared! Blinding hot regret washed through her as she wished she would have pushed Bail or even Mon a bit further—demanded they send their remaining fleet to reach Obi-Wan!

For whatever reason, Skywalker was not panicking.

The electric shock of terror she felt staggered and paused for a few seconds as she watched, curiously, Skywalker's calm and decisive actions.

How could he be so calm? Why was he not running back to the ship, with or without her, upon realizing just how difficult the mission had escalated to?

She barely had time to react when she saw, with disbelieving eyes, Skywalker drag an insect looking creature, probably a head shorter than her, with wings flapping irately as it's feet dragged on the floor. An instrument was poised at it's lips, but the creature did not get a chance to sound the alarm before he expertly sliced a clean line along its exposed neck, dark blue blood oozing from the gash.

He dropped the blade to his side, watching impassively as the Kouhun gurgled on the ground before him, it's life essence rapidly fleeing him.

_Oh, dear._

That was... _impressive._

Padmé did not get a chance to expound on the fact that Skywalker had killed so easily, and _silently,_ to say nothing of the fact that he was _still fighting_ and _not fleeing_! Perhaps he was a valuable asset after all?

The thought was cut short as she felt what had to be the mouth of a bazooka pressed against her open neck. A buzzing noise that could only be an alien voice echoed in her ear, but she had no idea what the insect wanted as she was in no position to scan the foreign language she heard, and her scanner would be useless on an undeveloped planet anyway.

Skywalker's eyes widened fractionally when he looked her way, and it would have been almost comical, if her imminent death was not inevitable.

Even so, a mirthless bubble of laughter escaped her throat just the same. She was going to die, she had _no doubt,_ and all because she had stopped to watch the spectacle that was Skywalker fighting, with a blade that he'd complained was _clumsy_.

It looked anything but clumsy when he wielded it.

She was just about to kick the insect in the softest part of its thorax, her uncharacteristic stupor blessedly shattering, when something hard and heavy landed on her foot. She suppressed a yelp as she looked down to examine what had collided with her toes.

The bazooka!

But that meant…

She whirled quickly around to find her captor to be…

Choking?

Her mind went into overdrive as she tried in vain to come up with a reason for why the creature could be choking... _to death_ , as she watched it fall with a thud to her feet.

She looked up at Skywalker questioningly.

"So it choked to death," he shrugged carelessly. "That works in our favor." He gestured her to come forward, _to come right by his very side_. Apparently she'd now assured him she was helpless. _Kriff._ She wasn't helpless! "Now if you're done watching the show, might I suggest you head in that direction," he pointed his finger directly behind her, "and wait for my return aboard the ship."

Padmé shook her head stubbornly, stepping through the trees carefully to where Skywalker stood above what appeared to be a cliff of some sort. "I can help," she assured him. "I was just surprised, but I promise I can help."

He looked at her with an expression that could only be described as doubtful.

"All right," he relented. "But we have to do things my way." He physically took her by the shoulders and steered her to face the small valley below.

A swamp.

In the middle, a pit.

Someone fighting in said pit.

Obi was shirtless, defensive save a mere stick, and fending off five wild beasts that appeared to resemble dogs.

He was so small from this vantage point, and clearly without a lightsaber. He looked weak, and near defeat. How to get to him in the middle of that swamp? What was more, how would they get to him with what looked to be a hundred boisterous onlookers, wings flapping in the stands, watching the horrifying display with unsupressed glee?

Padmé's eyes fell to a chair higher than the rest, _directly below them_ , and a little forward. This Kouhun was wearing a crown of twigs atop his head, and egging on the beasts in the pit.

Her eyes then looked up, colliding with icy blue ones. Her body was tense and ready for action. Would he really fight with her, when it appeared so glaringly _hopeless_?

"You have it completely under control, huh?"

She flinched as her words were brutally thrown back at her. She really did feel like a naive little girl, now—the neigh-sayers had all been _right._

Right or not—she would gladly die for the rebellion.

"I hate to see what it looks like when things are _out_ of your control." Skywalker fixed her with a wry smirk.

Wait.

Was he joking with her?

Astonishment flooded her previously hardened features.

"My apologies," she offered him crisply, robotically. "It appears you were right and I was wrong. This is a suicide mission."

His fist tightly enclosed around the handle of his blade. "No," he stated calmly, and then he smiled widely, causing her heart to thud in her chest. "It's a privilege."

More words thrown at her.

She swallowed discreetly, unable to fully compute that he was indeed helping her. Whatever her preconceived notions had been regarding Skywalker—they were completely flipped and turned upside down now.

**~oOo*oOo~**

 


	7. Overwhelming Odds

**~oOo*oOo~**

After Amidala awoke from the paralyzed stupor she seemed to have fallen into, Vader was pleased to note that she was following him down the steep ravine with careful precision. Together they tiptoed around rocks and upturned tree roots stealthily in their quest to reach the throne. She for once didn't seem like a liability.

He had to admit, it had been a welcome excitement taking care of the two locals they had happened upon. When he'd first snuck up on the Kouhun, he'd reveled in the obscene amount of power that had coursed through him. He welcomed the exhilarating feeling it had brought with it.

He'd felt invincible for the briefest of moments.

It was a feeling that often took over his body when wielding the Force.

He'd yet to even come down from the powerful high before he saw Amidala watching him with barely suppressed awe, completely unaware of the second Kouhun that had snuck up behind her and pressed a bazooka up against the delicate skin of her neck.

It was _nothing_.

He didn't even need to think twice about Force-choking the creature, and really it hadn't taken much effort on his part. He had the Kouhun on the ground and writhing in a frenzied panic in no time—it was almost _too easy._ Vader had no doubts he could take on the entire horde with the aid of the Force and his light saber.

If only he had a light saber.

He would cut through the insects as if they were made of butter. It was much more of an elegant weapon then the heavy blade that burdened his side, but there was no sense in wishing for something he couldn't have.

"Do you have a plan?" Amidala said in a hushed whisper.

Did he have a plan? He'd been asking himself that ever since spotting the enemy. Thus far he'd been letting his bloodlust lead him, but a plan was slowly forming in his head. When he had Force-choked the armed Kouhun, he had realized their midi-chlorians were rather low. He suspected it wouldn't take much to influence them, and doing so may be preferable to actually killing them all. Doing so with a blade would be exhausting. Force-choking them might incite further suspicion from Amidala but if he could influence the King, that's really all the effort he should need to exert.

"The plan is to take a closer look."

She mumbled something about that being a horrible plan, but Vader paid her no mind.

Being as he possessed the highest midi-chlorian count in Galactic history, he had no concerns about the potential for success when it came to his persuasion abilities.

They were at the base of the hill, and Vader drew upon more of the Force to cloak them from sight, just as an extra precaution. He glanced at Amidala to find her tensed and ready for action. He looked up at the throne in front of him—it was probably a good three feet taller than him even when he wasn't crouching, but he could just make out the head of the King.

"Peak around that corner, see how many guards are covering him on that side. I'll check this side." He waited a fraction of a second to make sure she had complied, satisfied when she did, before he made his move. He stretched the energy he'd summoned to cover her thoroughly as she made her sweep so he needn't worry about the possibility of her being spotted.

He didn't have much time.

Pressing himself against the opposite wall, he whispered under his breath so Amidala had no chance of hearing him on the other side. "You grow tired of this spectacle," he directed the thought straight to the King who sat several feet away. "You're bored and wish to go hunting. Leave the human and call upon your troops."

The effect was instantaneous.

The King hovered above his raised seat, wings flapping rapidly. Amidala had made her count and ducked behind the throne when she saw the sudden movement. Vader quickly pulled her next to him, holding her still against the bamboo. A buzzing noise he was unable to interpret penetrated his ears.

"What are they doing?" she asked in a low voice.

"I don't know," he lied. "Perhaps we should see how it plays out?"

"What if he'd ordering Ben's execution?"

He put his finger to his lips, hushing her. She had no choice but to stay still and watch the spectacle. When suddenly every insect in the makeshift stadium hovered in the stands, he felt her tense beneath his fingers. He could tell the insufferable woman would rush headfirst in the direction of her friend should things go south. It reminded him a lot of himself, except she was helpless.

She pressed further into the wood, as if it would swallow her up and hide her, when the Kouhuns started flying east of them. He wasn't worried—they were moving in the opposite direction as them and Vader was still in the process of cloaking him and Amidala with a protective layer of the Force.

When all of them had vacated the premises, he let her go and tentatively stepped around the throne to make sure there were no stragglers, before dropping their Force-powered cover.

"It's clear," he informed her with an imperious wave of his hand.

She stepped around the bamboo looking baffled. "Where do you suppose they all went?"

Vader shrugged. "No idea. I just know we'd better act now before they decide to come back."

"They didn't even leave a guard—they just left him on his own!"

"Their loss is our gain."

Amidala hummed in agreement, turning her head left and right as they both traversed farther into the stadium. "I'm beginning to think you're rather lucky."

He suppressed a snort at the absurdity of her ridiculous notion. Of course she would attribute his hard work to luck. He could see the commander's friend now—just a pale, white body lying limp in the center of the swamp.

"Ben," Amidala hissed when they were within earshot, but the man didn't rouse. She turned to Vader, a question on her lips. "Skywalker, how will we get him from the swamp? There aren't any boats or rafts to speak of. They probably flew him in there."

Vader strode purposefully forward until he was close enough to peer into the murky depths. "We'll have to wade through it," he told her, distaste flooding his features. "It looks fairly shallow from this end."

She eyed the swamp, determination burning in her eyes. Decision made, she threw her cloak noiselessly to the ground and clenched her jaw before stepping into the thickened water. He stepped closer, watching as she took careful steps in the direction of her friend. She was a few steps in and he made to join her, when a buzzing noise grasped his attention.

He turned sharply to his right, just in time to see a group of ten Kouhuns, clearly late to the party, crest onto the downward slope of the valley. He heard Amidala hasten her steps in response to the noise indicating their enemy's imminent arrival.

Tightening his jaw, he reached for his blade, hoping that the commander would be able to get to her friend and by some miracle start floating him over to shore. The Kouhuns oversized eyes seemed to widen disturbingly larger before they all started converging on Vader, their expressions eager and sure.

Amidala wasn't even looking at him, too focused on her own task and facing the opposite way to notice if Vader summoned some help of his own. Decision made, he called upon the Force, gently caressing the dark energy that rippled off of him which eagerly awaited his bidding. They were gaining on him, and still poised with his fingers tightened around the blade, he pushed the Force away from him and towards the group of unsuspecting Kouhuns, feeling it bristle over his skin as it rolled off of him in angry, dark waves.

The insects didn't know what hit them.

The ones in front exploded as the strong wave of Force-powered energy hit them. The ones flanking the sides quickly lost their smug looks and spun out of control when they felt the remnant of Vader's rage. He smiled with grim satisfaction as he surveyed his handiwork, a sadistic thrill shooting through him when he saw the rest of the five remaining insects regain their footing and float closer, this time with a healthy dose of trepidation.

He heard a groan behind him and realized that Amidala had managed to reach her evidently alive and quite fortunate friend.

The Kouhuns converged on him quickly, attempting to take him from multiple sides and using their flight to their advantage, but Vader was ready for them. He sliced one clean in half, but had to work to get the blade out of the insect, then flipped in the air to avoid another before slashing it too, and Force-choking a third. He was focusing his attention on the remaining two when something whizzed by his line of vision, coming close to careening into his head. He only just gathered his bearings enough to dodge the crude metal spinning through the air when the fourth and fifth Kouhun chose that moment to attack with their sharpened-tentacle laden claws.

"Duck!" he shouted to his counterpart, hoping she could stave off most of the aerial attack.

His rage growing to palpable and hoping blindly that the commander had her hands full and would not notice his actions, he summoned the Force and bent it to his will, sending it speeding to his immediate attackers and then to the cowards that hid under the cover of trees with their bazookas trained on him. He heard a soft gasp behind him, closer than he suspected and then a splash followed by another.

He was being overwhelmed, and by uncivilized lowly insects to boot.

That would _never_ do.

His ire peaked, he let the energy he commanded run through him, wild and ecstatic. It brutally slammed into his opponents and knocked several out of the trees. He let it wash over the whole stadium and refused to stop even when he no longer felt the bullets pelting down on them. Like a blade ripping through the air, he sent the Force before him, persuading it to tear through flesh, singe armour, incinerate it, and rip through vital organs. He didn't cease his attack until he sensed all movement had subsided, and smelled the heavy scent of metallic copper permeate the air.

Sensing it was safe to; he spun around, concern exploding across his face when he saw the commander half laying on the ground and in the swamp, clutching her abdomen. Beside her lay a man in a similarly desolate state, barely managing to keep his head above water. He quickly tested them both through the Force, the energy strangely bristling when it ran through the wounded man.

He wasn't able to expound on the odd sensation, moving quickly to drag them both the rest of the way out of the swamp. He flipped the commander over and cursed when he saw the crimson stain that bloomed across her formerly white top, blood dripping down to her navel. The useless man groaned, mumbling indistinct words Vader could not make out.

"K-Kenobi," Amidala choked, "Nothing matters except Kenobi. Leave me...save him."

A cold hard knot formed in Vader's throat and panic began to churn, dark and insidious in his gut.

_Kenobi_

_Kenobi_

_Kenobi_

Had she...was it possible she had really uttered _that_ word?

His throat constricted and Vader felt like _he_ was being Force-choked when he finally chanced a glance over to the man who boasted of wounds rippling down his chest and abdomen. His eyes were screwed shut and his hair was bloody and matted, but recognition shot through Vader just the same. Still, he had to be _sure_ …

Sending a wave of Force-fueled energy, he tested the man at his side, _learning him_ through the Force. He recoiled back as if he had been struck at his discovery.

The man's midi-chlorian count was _high._

As high as that of a Sith...or a _Jedi._

_Kriff._

White, hot anger ripped through him at the discovery. A Jedi! The meddlesome commander had forced him to risk his life and save a cursed Jedi!

The notion was unfathomable.

He grew more nauseous with every second.

He should have been thwarting the _blasted mission_ at every turn! Why had he allowed himself to actually aid the despicable woman? And here they lay both _dying,_ bleeding out their very life essence on the insufferable planet she'd made _him_ fly to. And he should _definitely_ let that happen, he'd done enough already! The last thing he should do was continue with the damnable mission _but…_

But if he returned empty-handed, what _in_ would he have then?

It would mean starting over from square one, if not arousing suspicion, and it was probably worth it, but all of that _effort…_

The man let out a moan once more, as if he could feel Vader's probing presence alone, even in his delirious state. Vader should let Kenobi— _his enemy—_ die. He'd been on the battlefield with him before, he was a _Light-weilder._ What if the man healed and became a threat? What if he sensed the Dark side of the Force in Vader? Vader would have to conceal his connection to the Force constantly, it would be _draining._ He shouldn't even be debating this but…

_But I've come too far to stop now. Besides, what would my master say? Perhaps not every Jedi was destroyed with Order 66. Maybe Kenobi is the key to locate others…_

His body screamed to let the man die, to give the final blow, the dark fury inside him begged to be unleashed, but instead he channeled it in another direction, calling on a side of the Force he rarely used. Clamping down on his righteous anger, he channeled the healing power of the Force into the slight body to his other side.

Amidala was the key.

He _could not_ lose his key.

Decision made, he began mending and healing her near-fatal wound with careful precision.

**~oOo*oOo~**

Dark shadows loomed behind her eyes, dancing and darting between her vision—causing her to feel confused and wary. Tendrils of fear whispered down her spine, provoking her senses on high alert.

Everything was black and not a sound could be heard. She struggled to move as if she were made of lead.

Was she dead?

That seemed plausible—she’d been in a fight, a _terrible fight._

That she remembered.

She'd been so close…

So close to succeeding!

She'd found him— _Obi-Wan!_

Bolting up with a start, she gasped for air, her hand reaching for her abdomen as terror shrilled through her.

"Kenobi," she rasped.

"He's alive," said a voice, somehow deep and soothing.

"Skywalker?" Her vision was coming back to her in spots. She took a disorientated look around, feeling dizzy and finding it odd that there was two of him.

"Lie down," came the command. "You took a blow to the head, you shouldn't sit up so fast."

"My stomach...it tore a hole through my stomach." The place they were in was somehow shady. How could that be when before there was nothing but the glaring light of the sun? "I'm dying," she informed him in a rather detached sort of way. "This is the end for me. It's hit my liver I think."

"Which is it? Your liver or your stomach?"

_Oh! The nerve of the man! Torturing me even as I'm at Death's door._

She choked in a breath. "You jest...even now."

"Your stomach is on your left, and your liver is on your right."

 _He's so irritating! Insufferable-Know-It-All._ "It's my right side," she snapped with more gusto than she felt, bolting upright once more. "My liver or gallbladder or something." She could see him now, the lines of his annoyingly handsome face were much more distinct.

He eyed her dubiously. "You seem fine to me. A bit shaken, but otherwise…"

She huffed at his deliberate attempt to ignore her fatal state. But, he'd said she was _fine._ Carefully, she flexed her body, puzzled when she no longer felt the searing pain she had all too recently remembered. How could that be? She knew she'd been hit with some sort of shrapnel. She could feel it when it hit her, she was _sure._ She ran a hand down the smooth flesh of her abdomen, surprise flaring alive in her chest when she found no wound. How _odd._ She eyed him shrewdly. He had said she merely took a knock to the head. Perhaps he was right?

"I think you're as delusional as your friend, here."

She followed Skywalker's line of sight, gasping when she saw Obi-Wan lying as peacefully as ever a ways away from her. Padmé scrambled towards him on knees skinned and raw. She desperately tried to keep her voice calm. "Obi-Wan?" Dare she hope?

"You never said that name before."

She furrowed her brows in annoyance. "We call him Ben, most times, safer to, what with the state of the—."

"Of the Jedi, yes, I see."

Did he seem distant with her? _Well, more distant than usual._

"Is he hurt?"

Skywalker looked contemplative. "He could probably use a medic."

"Where are we?"

"Back at the rock."

"You carried us here yourself?"

He nodded. "We needed cover," he answered simply.

"Oh, gods, we need to get back to the ship! How did we even outrun them? They'll be looking for us!"

"I don't think anyone will be looking for us." Was she imagining the sadistic curl of his lips or the dangerous glint in his eyes?

"I was running back towards you, as fast as I could while shouldering Obi-Wan's weight. They were attacking us...they were overwhelming us...they were in the trees, maybe twenty of them...how—."

"You're exaggerating a bit."

Padmé bit back an angry retort. "I'm a _commander_ —it’s my job to assess the enemy. We shouldn't be alive."

"Maybe we should go back to the Kouhuns and tell them there's been a mistake? I'm sure they'll be returning soon and expecting to find their captive and champion dog-fighter safely tucked in his cage. We wouldn't want to disappoint them."

"No need to mock me," she all but snarled, a rush of anger sweeping through her.

"We can talk about our _narrow and fortunate_ escape another time. We're alive and if we hope to make it out in one piece, we'd better leave before they send _more_ reinforcements."

He was right, _of course._ Somehow, unbeknownst to her, they had survived, but they weren't out of hot water yet.

"Skywalker," she leaned forward and clasped his arm. "This is insane. We should be _dead._ I thought there was no way we could escape, but here we are." She squeezed his arm enthusiastically. "I could almost hug you right now."

He frowned at her in displeasure. "I rather you _not._ "

She narrowed her eyes at him but couldn't help but smirk. The whole situation was hard to wrap her head around. She had resigned herself to the possibility that she would not make it out alive and now, not only was she breathing, but so was her most trusted friend and _the last Jedi._ It was almost too good to be true, and it was all thanks to Skywalker. She might be stubborn, but even she had to admit that none of this would be possible without him. He came through in a big way, and despite however infuriating he could be, she couldn't help but admit how fortunate she was to have him join her mission. Already her mind was working frenetically to figure out a way to coerce him to join her on any mission in the foreseeable future.

"Have it your way," she said reproachfully. Worry bloomed across her face when she glanced again at Obi-Wan. "Are you sure he's alive?"

"Positive."

"Will he stir?"

"I think so. He may need some help getting back to the ship. Seeing as it isn't raining anymore, I think you and I should be able to help him there in less than two hours, and then leave this Force-forsaken planet once and for all."

For once Padmé couldn't agree with him more, eager to reach the safety of space. "I'm ready to help," she insisted. "I don't care if we ever see this place again. And Skywalker?" She hovered stiffly on her knees, capturing his cool blue gaze with her own. "I take back what I said before—you're welcome to join me on any future missions, _any time._ "

"Oh, joy."

**~oOo*oOo~**


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thank you all for your feedback/kudos!_
> 
> _No beta cred to give. If anyone feels like beta'ing, message me on Tumblr or FB! You can find me under my pseuds._

**~oOo*oOo~**

The noise was grating to his ears.

Who knew the vast caves could be so _loud_? Vader had never seen the place bustling with so many people as it was now. The Mandalorian was hovering over the commander as if she were riddled with wounds. _Well,_ he mused. _She was riddled with wounds. It's only thanks to me that she isn't anymore._

Next to him was the Healer, Cordé, who seemed just as frustrated as Vader was himself with the throng of people that had gathered.

"Back up, give them space," she called with authority. "I need to get all three of them to the Healing Center."

"I don't need to go to the Healing Center," Vader informed her. "I didn't sustain any injuries."

"Neither do I," the commander added. "I know my tunic is stained with swamp water and Force-knows what else, but I'm fine."

Despite Amadala's insistence, Cordé wouldn't be dissuaded. "Nonsense, you are all three coming. Just let the medidroid run a diagnostic test, at the very least.

Commander Wren nodded. "I'll escort you to the Healing Center immediately."

The sentence was directed at both him and Amidala, but Vader suspected Wren was more concerned with aiding Amidala - which would be preferable, anyway - then maybe he could give them all the slip. The sanctuary of his small hovel was becoming more and more appealing.

"It's amazing you three made it back," Wren continued through his shock. "I never thought...it never occurred to me…"

"Yes," Amidala snapped, wrenching herself to her feet and stepping away from the supine form of Kenobi. "We did it despite the odds." She shot Vader a guilty glance. "Well, it wouldn't have been possible without Skywalker." She gave him a small smile that made Vader's stomach twist, before turning back to Wren. "So now perhaps Mon and Bail will take me more seriously next time I ask for a hand."

She stepped swiftly past him, neglecting to take the arm he offered him. Vader followed begrudgingly, hoping to get whatever awaited them over with so he could actually get some rest. Slipping away might not be the best course of action.

"I'm sorry, Padmé," Wren told her with an expression that could only be described as pathetic. "Had I been able to join you myself, I would have—you surely must know that."

Amidala's features softened measurably. "Yes, I know that, Tyro. And you did help, really. You were the third commander to stay at the base, and because of that, I was able to leave even though Piell was already gone."

They walked briskly up the rock stairs and towards the Healing Center.

"Has Commander Piell returned?" she asked over her shoulder.

"No, not yet," Wren answered her. "They've tracked down several of our pilots that escaped the altercation. We estimate about a third of the late Commander Joth's team have survived."

"That's better than we calculated at least."

"Yes, it appears Lord Vader was not involved in the attack."

 _No,_ he mused. _I was otherwise occupied._

They reached the entrance of the Healing Center and quickly walked inside. Vader was struck by how odd the place looked. He was used to Healing Centers being unapologetically white and clean. This one was crudely built around stalactites and stalagmites. The droids that navigated the place had to get around dips and bumps in the hard, rock floor. But he supposed it was clean. There was a turret to the far end providing a scant bit of natural light in addition to the artificial lights placed around the room. He noticed none of the medical equipment was placed under the turret, probably in case it rained, but the slant of the floor made flooding impossible in the room.

Amidala sat down heavily on an exam chair and Vader followed suit. Two medidroids immediately came rolling to where they sat.

"How did you even manage to find him alive?" Wren sat in a chair to Amidala's left, turning completely to face her. "Were they in the spacecraft?"

"Only Soro was in the Delta. He apparently died in the crash." A muscle twitched by her eye. "We'll have to give him a proper Nubian funeral. Skywalker retrieved his body from the wreckage and we brought him here."

"I'm sorry for your loss." Wren looked truly heart-broken by the news and Vader wondered if they were all friends. "He died a hero and will be commemorated as such."

Amidala nodded, but before she could continue, the door burst open and Cordé was leading two men carrying Kenobi on a hastily-made stretcher. Behind them trailed another of the commanders—Organa.

He rushed past Kenobi and strode to the opposite side of Amidala, kneeling down beside her exam chair.

Vader wanted to roll his eyes as the medidroid made quick work of getting his vitals. Were the two men in love with the commander, is that why they showed her such devotion? How pitiful.

"I thank the gods you made it back alive, Padmé." He reached for her hand and held it in his. "I prayed every day for your safe return."

Vader almost chuckled at the way Amidala seemed to stiffen, resisting the urge to pull her hand away as she awkwardly let the medidroid assess her nonexistent injuries. "I'm fine, Bail. All that matters is the mission was a success." Her worried eyes followed Cordé from across the room. "Is he okay?"

"From what I can tell so far, it looks like he's suffering from dehydration," the Healer answered distractedly. "Possibly a concussion, too. He has several large wounds on his chest, but they are healing remarkably well. Still, I should be able to heal them better." Cordé looked up at her friend. "He will be fine, he just needs rest, mainly."

This seemed to satisfy Amidala somewhat.

"Padmé was just telling me how they found the wreckage of Kenobi's Delta," Wren said to Organa.

"That's right," Amidala continued. "But Obi-Wan was not there. Skywalker noticed smoke in the distance and rightfully concluded he'd been captured by locals."

The two commanders glanced at Vader, appraising him in a new light.

"We decided to follow the trail of the smoke," Skywalker told them crisply. "We had to stop to rest and seek coverage when it started raining, but ultimately we located them."

Was Vader imagining the flash of jealousy that passed through Wren's eyes? He didn't think so.

"He was in an arena of sorts." An excited glint smoldered in Amidala's eyes. "Skywalker took out two of the sentries, and then we saw just how many there were. Obi-Wan was in the middle of a swamp. It seems like they were going to unleash beasts for him to fight. Maybe they already had before." She cast a worried glance to the recumbent form of her friend.

"How did you manage to get him out of it in the middle of so many Kouhuns?" Organa looked openly curious.

"By the time we snuck into the gorge," Amidala said, "we were struck by good fortune. All the Kouhuns started flying away. We didn't know why they left or when they would come back, but I made a break for the swamp, wading to where Obi-Wan was, and Skywalker stood guard."

Vader grew more alert as she recounted the tale, finally deciding to inject himself into the conversation. "Five of the Kouhuns returned, but I took care of them."

"Weren't there more than five?" Amidala's brows furrowed in concentration. "I seem to remember them flying in all directions."

"Some flew around, intending to catch me by surprise, but there were only five, easily manageable. I cut through them quickly."

"Like butter," she added. "I remember that. You move well with a saber, Skywalker. There was so much... _power_ in that fight. I mean, maybe you missed your calling, maybe you were supposed to be a fighter! Force knows you're good at it."

"The Force," Kenobi stunned everyone by finally speaking. "I sense it...it's strong in him."

Vader was instantly gripped with fear. He'd hoped that during Kenobi's delusion-induced rescue, he hadn't noticed Vader wield anything.

"Obi-Wan!" Amidala ripped the saline-laden tube from her arm and rushed to his side. "You're awake."

"I never thought I'd get out of that," Kenobi said tiredly. "Truly a brilliant rescue. But your pilot...he's quite Force-sensitive."

Vader bristled and it was becoming almost impossible to keep the rage from splintering his carefully erected mask of impassiveness.

"Hush." Cordé placed a damp rag on his head. "Don't try to speak now, just sleep."

Kenobi chuckled, but nodded. "Alright, but only for a moment. It's time to resurrect Mission Fervidity."

Amidala cast Vader a worried glance.

Vader became instantly alert at the mention of the mission. Was this the one that Amidala had been alluding to? For some reason, the mission struck him as _dangerous._ But even more worrisome, was the fact that Kenobi had indeed detected Vader was Force-sensitive. While Organa, Wren and Amidala continued to discuss the miraculous rescue, Vader could not stop thinking about what else was brewing.

The look that had been in Amidala's eyes was enough to convince him that the mission was an important one for the rebels. This was what he needed to truly infiltrate. If Vader could be trusted enough to help with this, how much more entail could be gathered on the rebels and their resources? He had no doubts that this would be the key to obtaining the information to cast one, last fatal blow to the resistance. He suddenly regretted being so argumentative with Amidala. Would she trust him enough to place him on the mission with her? Despite his snark, he had surely proved how useful he could be?

It would be tiresome to cloak the Dark side of the Force.

Tiresome, but necessary.

Kenobi was no fledging Padawan. He would be hard to fool, but if Vader could conceal feelings and thoughts from his master, surely he'd be able to hide the fact that he was in tune with the Dark side of the Force. It would be exhausting, but what choice did he have?

Consumed with newfound worry, Vader left the Healing Center without a backwards glance in search of the sanctuary of his room.

One thing was certain—his work was most definitely cut out for him and he would need to become a master at shielding.

**~oOo*oOo~**

When Padmé was finally free of her well-meaning, but overwhelming friends, she'd made her way straight to the Farstey fresher.

It was arguably her favorite part of the base, in addition to the marina and command center - really Farstey had everything - it was her home. The fresher was peaceful, though. There she could find solace and privacy. She knew the canals inside and out, and how to get to the best spots in the caves, where the water was hot and the stars shone the brightest through the turrets.

She'd spoke to Obi-Wan again, relieved to find it was only rest he needed and not something more invasive. During the entire trip home, she was wracked with worry whenever she chanced a glance at her friend and found him to still be unconscious. Skywalker had said he needed sleep, and infuriatingly, it appeared Skywalker was correct yet again.

Skywalker was a mystery.

The man was an actual enigma!

He challenged Padmé at every turn. Truly he was not the most optimal partner to be paired with—only _he was_. The pilot had proved himself a valuable asset. He didn't follow directions easily, and that was an issue. He seemed more suited for leadership, a duty far beyond her capability to give to him in such a short time of him joining the base on Farstey.

She'd seen him fight with a gusto unrivaled by anything else. Okay, she'd been a bit distracted dodging bazookas and renegade shrapnel in her efforts to pull Obi-Wan from his swamp of a prison, but she'd caught glimpses. The man was like a musician, fighting in such a way that was complex and mesmerizing. He was a dancer, moving with the sleek saber like it was an extension of himself. His intuition had proved correct at every turn. Padmé had believed that making intuitive decisions were _her_ strong suit, but it would seem she'd been dethroned. Skywalker hadn't led him astray during the entirety of the mission, and he was more than capable of handling conflict.

Who was she kidding? Of course she would love to have Skywalker on every mission with her!

She could deal with his infuriating personality so long as he was helping her! The men around her were always so indecisive, she couldn't fathom being that way! Where did you get when you second-guessed everything? No where. That's why she liked Obi-Wan, he was cautious, yes, but he was decisive, and Skywalker? He didn't hesitate to do what needed to be done.

Padmé slipped out of her towel and stepped into the soothing, mineral-rich water.

Obi-Wan wanted to resurrect Mission Fervidity, he'd even got Bail and Tyro excited about it, despite being ragged and weak. Mon would probably not be excited, she never was, even when they had first come up with it, but it didn't matter because she and Piell were no longer in the majority. With Obi-Wan alive and back by her side where he belonged, she doubted the others would give her much grief.

Mission Fervidity was dangerous, the kind of idea that's so bad it actually might work, but she didn't doubt that with the right team, she could ensure its success. For too long they had simply reacted to every offensive strike the Imperialists threw at them. They'd been torn to shreds by the emperor and barely managed to throw off attacks after attacks. No more!

It was time the resistance went on the offense for once, instead of always defending themselves. It would be complicated and quite difficult to navigate, but _it was possible, there was a chance,_ and that alone made it imperative they saw it through.

Padmé swam through the canals, navigating the rocks deftly before finding her secret room only she knew about. She moved to the rock ledge where she kept bottles of soap and shampoos, as well as sponges to bathe with. This was her one luxury at Farstey. Her limbs were so tense and sore from days spent marching and her body desperately craved the healing properties of the water and the promise of imminent relaxation.

All she needed to do was convince Skywalker to join her.

They really didn't need anyone else. The three of them would be well suited for the job. There were three parts to the mission, and the first part wasn't going to be the easiest to enact. They didn't know where to find the bounty hunter, but once they did, it would be smooth sailing from there…

...Mostly.

She poured a generous amount of shampoo into her hands and began working her thick curls into a soapy lather, massaging her scalp as she did so.

Inexplicably, her mind drew to Skywalker.

Her mind seemed to be doing that a lot these days!

The man was sort of hard to ignore, especially with having spent the last week in his company. To be a part was oddly daunting. Despite how insanely difficult he was, Padmé could not deny that there was something about him that was decidedly soothing. It was an odd revelation to have, especially considering how hard he grated on her nerves, but there was truth to it.

He'd protected her.

She couldn't forget the time spent under the cover of the rock. Her cheeks flamed as she remembered waking up sprawled on top of him. On top of all of those hard ridges and muscles, he was strangely comfortable, fitting to her body as she fit to him.

A feeling of danger sparked down her spine.

She should _not_ be thinking of him like that—it was highly inappropriate! Skywalker was professional at least, and she needed to be the same.

When was the last time she had allowed herself to indulge in such feelings? Not since her days as a senator. After ruling as queen, she felt her duties had lightened somewhat. She dabbled in romance, entertained feelings of love, it was all very innocent, and all _so long ago._ In a world where there was hope. She didn't have time for such frivolousness now.

His face flashed before her—such a beautiful face!

Like a statue carved in stone, his features were chiseled and his nose was impossibly straight, When not pressed into a thin line, his lips were perfectly bow-shaped. His hair was wild and unruly but framed his face in a decidedly attractive way, she longed to ruffle her hands in it! More haunting were his eyes, those intense, skewering eyes seemed capable of cutting through diamonds, and they were as blue as the sapphire lakes back on Naboo. He was really far too handsome to be fair.

Padmé sighed, angry with herself at letting her thoughts wander down such a precarious path.

She placed her things back on the rock shelf and made her way to the main canal. She felt much better having bathed, now the only thing she needed was a bit of rest, and she was ready to start all over again, as soon as Obi-Wan was ready. She located the large towel and pulled it over herself, relishing in the added warmth. She was just about to find cover to change behind when she heard someone coming down to the fresher.

It never failed—no matter how late she came there was always someone around.

As fate would have it, it was Skywalker himself.

Padmé preened at the discovery—perhaps it was a fortuitous time to make her proposition?

"Skywalker." She beamed at him, then frowned at the way he stiffened and how alarm briefly flashed across his face. Perhaps it wasn't a good time? She internally pushed the thought away, trudging on. "I'd actually hoped to discuss something with you."

He averted his eyes, looking anywhere except at her.

"Is something the matter?"

"I hardly think it's an appropriate time to discuss something in your current state." His eyes drew meaningfully over her.

She let out an indelicate snort. "I don't think that matters after all we've been through—don't be silly."

Skywalker clenched his jaw and pressed his lips into the cruel line she'd come used to—she wished he didn't do that!

"As I was saying...I know we've exchanged words before and have had some intense debates-."

He folded his arms across his chest.

"Anyway, I was hoping that despite that, you would be willing to join me again. I mean, I think it's abundantly clear we work well together, putting aside everything else."

"Like your propensity to disagree with me at every turn?"

"A good leader listens to other's council and considers it—I appreciate being challenged."

"Hmph."

"Regardless, I think we make a good team, and," Padmé took a deep breath before continuing, "even though you are a new recruit, you've proven your bravery by-."

"Being the only person crazy enough to join your previous mission?"

"Yes." She rolled her eyes. "That, and I doubt you want to go back to Agriculture after so much excitement?"

"Oh, I don't know. Farming tuberous crops does have it's uses, in addition to being rather peaceful and _not_ potentially fatal."

Her heart plummeted, and she clenched the hem of her towel until her knuckles turned white.

Then his face broke into a grin. "But it does seem like you could use me, should your brain conjure another more dangerous endeavor as it seems to be prone to doing. I suppose I will join you."

Padmé smiled, relief flooding her. "I'm glad you will. I talked to Obi-Wan after you left, just for a little bit. Skywalker, he says he senses the Force strongly in you...he wants to train you."

His face was inscrutable, but something like dark amusement past through his eyes. "Train me, does he? I thought only younglings could be trained in the ways of the Force."

She shrugged. "I suppose he doesn't mind bending the rules when the whole galaxy believes the Jedi are extinct."

He was quiet for a moment, and somehow, she worried he may refuse her.

"Sounds...exciting."

**~oOo*oOo~**

 


	9. The Light

**~oOo*oOo~**

It was a week before they left on the _Azure._

Much too long in Padmé's opinion.

Her patience was wearing thin, and she longed for the action she had briefly become accustomed to. But Obi-Wan had to be on bed rest for three days - then light duty the following four - Cordé had insisted. That was the only reason she was able to to wait patiently. Even she did not see the reason for stalling so long. Inexplicably, the Jedi had not sustained any injuries save minor scrapes and surface wounds. Cordé had deduced that he had passed out from dehydration and nothing that would cause permanent damage. It was all rather fortunate.

Or rather, quite lucky, if not divinely inspired.

Back when she lived on her home planet, Padmé had been a worshipper of Shiraya. The Lunar deity seemed ages away from Farstey, but even now she felt the evidence of the goddess' blessings. She wasn't one to leave something to fate or act purely on emotion, but something was telling her that she ought to include Skywalker on this mission - _nagging her_ \- and it was becoming difficult to ignore.

Not that she needed much prodding. Logically, the man had proved his worth, personal feelings aside. Even Obi-Wan sensed something in him - the Force - so it was clear her beliefs were not leading her astray. Commander Joth had taken a third of their navy in his efforts to carry out Project Nova, but it was becoming clear that such an envoy would only draw notice, even in somewhere as vast as the galaxy. At least for the first part of the mission, they needed to have smaller details carrying out various tasks.

It had been hard to resume her normal duties for the week, to sit at meetings and watch the holonets as broadcasts of what the Imperialists were doing around the galaxy glowed before her. Padmé wished desperately to act—to suffer such a tyrant was a trial to her restraint. She needed to be doing something, or else she would go crazy. But while Obi-Wan rested and Skywalker went back to his duties in the Space Chamber, she had resumed her commander duties on Farstey and grown bored as she longed for the action she'd grown accustomed to.

Now she was finally getting her wish.

When they left Farstey's atmosphere and entered the vastness of space, Padmé instantly felt herself begin to breathe easier, which was actually kind of bizarre, because if anything - she should be _more wary_ \- but she inexplicably wasn't.

Who knew what was awaiting them on this mission. They were headed initially for Tatooine, yes, but if she was being honest with herself, Padmé did not labor under the delusion that they would actually find the bounty hunter they sought on the first planet they tried, but all they needed was another hint - a trail to follow - and then their search could continue.

Farstey wasn't exactly bad, per say, but it seemed like her recent trip to Indoumodo had incited a thirst for adventure that couldn't be sated unless she was actively doing something. It was largely unexpected, to say the least. If anything, she would have guessed she would have pulled rank and insisted she stay put, tucked away safely on the base while she collected her nerves, but quite the opposite had happened. She'd never been cowardly, or one to avoid danger just for the sake of self-preservation, but then she'd never quite experienced a near fatal experience like with the Kouhuns—and it was _thrilling._

Padmé took her sparsely packed belongings to the room she used to share with Cordé aboard the _Azure._ It was small, but probably the biggest of the three on the ship. There were only two beds crammed into the room, unlike the other two that held three bunks. Even so, this had been her favorite ship to use while she served as queen in Naboo. It's size was unassuming, but it was sleek and packed quite a punch should they come across unfriendly fire. She could make due with the lack of opulence if it meant being able to sneak around the galaxy without drawing much attention.

She pulled open the doors of her armoire, intending to place the sensible clothing she had brought with her inside, but was momentarily startled when she saw several beautiful and outlandish dresses hanging in front of her. Her breath caught in her throat as she was reminded of a time so long ago, when democracy ruled the galaxy. Reaching out with tentative fingers, she brushed against the impossibly soft material, letting her hand luxuriously trail across the dress as memories came flooding back to her.

Friends…

...So many friends that she'd lost!

The palace had been teeming with people, and maybe they did not always agree on the best course of action, but they cared about each other and they cared about their planet. And now her planet was nothing but an Imperial outpost, selected only for its bountiful resources and close proximity to the Outer Rim Territories. The Resistance had completely lost any foothold there and had fled the place...abandoning her people.

Her throat was suddenly clogged with unshed tears, a feeling of loss plummeting to the pit of her stomach. How she desperately wished to change course and fly to Naboo, and not just to see her home planet, but to fight for her people. It had been so long, had they already assimilated to the new reign that was forced upon them? Did they still remember and keep Nubian traditions? How many of them were senselessly tortured and killed for refusing to comply with their invaders? Righteous fury seared through her, but she was helpless to act on it.

"Playing dress up?"

Padmé dropped the hem of the dress as if burned, and slammed closed the doors of her armoire. "No," she said through gritted teeth, turning to face Skywalker. "I merely forgot they were there, is all."

He quirked his brows in disbelief, a smirk tugging at his lips, and Padmé was suddenly stricken with the urge to slap it off of him.

"What are you doing here anyway?" She was unable to keep some of the anger she felt from boiling over in her voice.

He gestured to the crates he was carrying. "I wanted to see where you'd have me put the food stocks."

She tried to rein in her less than desirable attitude. It wasn't Skywalker's fault he'd wandered in at the wrong moment, though he did seem to have a habit of doing such things. "In the adjoining barracks." She nodded to her right, adopting the familiar tone of the commander she was. "That should suffice for now, though we may want to restock once we get to Tatooine. I'm not sure how long we'll be be searching for."

Padmé started when the aircraft shifted and the doors of the armoire came crashing open, articles of clothing spilling out to the carpeted floor. She made a sigh of frustration as she bent to her knees and started picking things up.

Skywalker quickly abandoned the crates on a nearby bed and in a few short strides had bent down beside her.

"It's fine," she told him. "I've got it."

"I don't mind helping," he answered simply.

Padmé didn't like when Skywalker was this close. Her whole body seemed to react to his sudden proximity. His aura was strong and almost - _too much_ \- seeming to take up all the air in her room and in the process, suffocate her. His scent was far too pleasant, like something musky and earthy and yet intrinsically him. He was almost brushing foreheads with her and she had to physically resist the compulsion to push him away.

When he looked up, dangling a delicate, silver Shirayian crown on his finger, and holding it out to her, Padmé had to catch her breath at the sight of his startling blue eyes - sharp and piercing - this close to her. _Dear goddess_ , they were like the color of the cerulean blue lakes of her home planet. For one mad moment, she suspected she could get lost in them.

She mentally shook herself, berating herself for acting so silly. He'd simply caught her at a bad time, in a rare moment when she was vulnerable.

"Your tiara?"

"Yes," she said, snatching it away from him and glancing around quickly for some place to put it.

He was full on smirking now, and Padmé had to wonder if he knew what effect he was having on her. "What a switch it must be—to go from Nubian royalty to fearless leader."

"Haven't we talked about this?" she attempted to deflect.

"I don't think we have."

She felt his eyes on her as she moved to cram the clothing back into the armoire. Damn if he wasn't disconcerting! The man was offputting, to say the least.

"You're going to wrinkle them," he told her with an edge of distaste laced in his voice, as if he were all-knowledgeable on the finer things in life.

She spun to face him. "It's not as if I'll ever wear them again," she all but snarled back.

As usual, her words didn't seem to have any effect on him and his face remained infuriatingly expressionless. Was there anything she could say that could wrench some kind of reaction from the fortress of a man?

"I don't know," he said thoughtfully. And then a dark glint passed through his eyes so quickly, if she had blinked she would have missed it. "Perhaps you will one day."

He smiled at her, but his smile was so feral - _so off_ \- and full of dark promises. It should have made her wary, should have made her slowly back away, so why then did her heart began to riot against the wall of her chest, as if the thought was somehow exciting? _Danger,_ her mind wisely told her, and she had to agree, if only her heart would comply with the rest of her.

After several seconds, she stumbled upon her voice. "Yes, maybe. Once we've won this war," she added just because she felt like she needed to. Surely that had to have been what he was talking about? So why did she feel certain he'd been referring to something else? Maybe she was going a crazy.

"Find Obi-Wan," she told him shakily. "I'm sure he has some things he wants to discuss."

**~oOo*oOo~**

_Find Obi-Wan._ A mad cackle ricocheted through his brain. Would that she knew what he wanted to do when he did come upon Kenobi...would that she knew what he wanted to do _with her._

Maybe she did.

There were moments where her eyes were so wide and frightened and inexplicably excited...and he wondered if she suspected. Of course she didn't—Vader was a master manipulator and master liar and could deceive anyone, the former queen included.

But still.

There was something exciting about entertaining the notion that she did.

When this was all over, he would ask for her. Surely his master would not deprive him such a simple request? Not when he ensured success and brought the Resistance to its final end. He would parade her in all her royal finery - a relic from the past never to be repeated but to be used by him - and he would enjoy it. She'd somehow wormed her way under his skin, and that warranted consequences. She'd all but asked for it. What was she doing prevalent on the forefront of his mind, when this was arguably the most difficult mission of his career? It was a slight he was determined to repay.

Brown eyes the color of Endor chocolate assaulted him whenever he closed his— _haunted him_.

He ruthlessly wrenched thoughts of the commander from his mind. She would pay for her distractions, but now he must play the farce of being a Padawan.

His mission got trickier and trickier with each day that passed.

Vader found the newly recovered Jedi - thanks to _him_ \- standing in the Control Chamber, seemingly distracted as the stars blurred by.

"Master Kenobi," Vader greeted with a slight dip of his head. He had to jerk his neck into compliance as the last thing he wanted to do was pay respects to his hated Jedi nemesis.

"Anakin," Kenobi greeted, and Vader tried not to flinch at the use of the first name he so deplored. "You really don't need to call me 'master,' Obi-Wan will be fine."

Vader frowned. "But is there not always a master and an apprentice?"

"Ah, yes." Kenobi moved through the room with his hands folded in front of him. "The Law of Two, but given how things are now, you will not have a traditional Jedi apprenticeship."

"Because of my age?"

"Your age is a challenge, but so is the fact that Jedi are nearly extinct. We must work with what we have." Kenobi took a seat in one of the control chairs and gestured for Vader to do the same. "Traditionally, Force-sensitive individuals who showed promise in wielding the Force were discovered at young ages and brought to the Jedi Temple located on Coruscant in order to begin their journey. They were taken from their families, but this was a sacrifice they willingly made."

Vader nodded, displaying nothing but polite interest on his face.

"We placed Jedi younglings in clans of up to twenty, and taught them the Jedi way. After years of tutelage, they were brought to the Gathering on Ilum, where they could then search for their own kyber crystals to build lightsabers."

"Good luck finding them now," Amidala said as she walked into the room. "I doubt the Star Destroyers have left very many on Ilum."

Defiance flared behind Vader's eyes at the blatant disapproval the commander had for Imperial sanctioned harvesting.

"Likely not," Kenobi agreed, a sad look passing over his face. "But that won't be an issue. When you are ready to claim a lightsaber, I will gift you my former master's—Qui Gon Jinn's."

With a flourish, Kenobi withdrew a lightsaber from his robes and flared it to life, the green whir of the Force illuminated the small area around it. Vader could not help from being entranced, even if it was merely a Jedi lightsaber, so different from one belonging to a Sith. He thought of his personal lightsaber, red from forcing the crystal to bleed crimson when he killed his first Jedi. That was how a Sith earned a lightsaber. It was no doubt more powerful than Qui Gon Jinn's, but what would the old Jedi - with his illustrious and formidable career - have to say knowing his lightsaber was being passed on to a Sith? The notion gave Vader a sense of gleeful vengeance.

"After the Gathering on Ilum," Kenobi continued. "Jedi trainees would begin their Initiate Trials, where upon passing, they would become Padawan to a Jedi Knight and they could then partake in the Jedi Trials once their master deemed them ready."

 _Thanks for the history lesson,_ Vader wanted to snark. "I take it we will not be going about it that way?"

A muscle tightened by Kenobi's eye. "We do not have the luxury of time. I have never trained a Padawan in the way I intend to train you, but we will do what we must."

"Which is how?" Amidala, to Vader's irritation, interrupted, curiosity written all over her face.

"You will teach me to pull from the Light side of the Force?" Vader added.

"Not exactly." Kenobi's eyes darted between both of them. "I will teach you to align your moral compass to the light-dark dichotomy of the Force." Kenobi closed the lightsaber and placed it back safely in his cloak. "It will be awhile before you will be ready to handle such a weapon, you must first learn to meditate."

"And you think you can do all of this in between traveling to planets and carrying out Mission Fervidity?" Amidala asked with an edge of incredulousness to her voice.

"That all depends on Anakin." Kenobi looked back to him in such a way that Vader worried the Jedi was peeling away layers and looking into his very soul. "It's not an easy task that we ask of you, but I sense enormous Force potential in you, and I believe you could make a strong Jedi one day. The decision is ultimately yours."

Vader did not hesitate to answer.

"It is my greatest wish, Obi-Wan."

The Jedi smiled happily.

…

The two hours they spent mediating were something close to torture.

Usually Vader enjoyed meditation, he relished in the comforting feeling of the Dark side of the Force as he let it wash over him.

But pulling from the Light was not so enjoyable.

He could not relax, and he was very on edge. The Light came to him jerkily - _unwillingly_ \- and his newly appointed master could sense it.

Kenobi would give him breathing instructions and encourage him to relax, of which Vader would try, but there was something in him that did not want to the Light side of the Force to touch him. What if his real master could sense the switch? He was not worried about switching back to Dark, as the Dark was far more alluring and powerful anyway, but he was worried about opening himself up to be vulnerable, and having a few seconds of which he was not using the Dark side to cloak his true feelings from both masters he now served.

He could not afford to make a single slip up.

The Jedi had already sensed 'darkness inside of him' and forced Vader to speak on his life experiences. Not only did Vader recite the falsehoods of he and his Sith master's carefully constructed story, but also he spoke of his mother whom had died as a slave and whom he'd been helpless to save. The truth intermingled with the lies gave his words authenticity. This backstory seemed to satisfy Kenobi and they resumed their meditation and thus Vader had continued his inner struggle.

He knew that to pull more, he must relinquish some of the Dark he constantly wore around him, but doing so made him instantly fraught with worry. Pulling from the Light caused him to feel divided and unsure—his desires would be in a wild disarray from the mass confusion.

 _I don't need to drop all of it,_ he had consoled himself. _Just drop some and make room for the blasted Light._

And so however unwilling, he had done so, and however uncomfortable it was - the feeling of so many previously repressed feelings being let through like a dam breaking - he'd been able to finish meditation to Kenobi's satisfaction and prove that he did indeed have an aptitude for pulling from the Force. He still held onto a sliver of Darkness for concealing purposes alone.

After the meditation came the drills.

They were simple enough, probably something given to a young Padawan or maybe even an advanced youngling. Kenobi had presented him with a training stick and instructed Vader to follow his lead. Vader's thirst for a lightsaber and determination to execute the mission was the only thing that kept him grounded.

Swing. Find center. Block. Counter. Turn and repeat.

He forced his moves to be jerky, injecting mistakes into his normally impeccable movements, but still he received praise from Kenobi.

"You're a natural fighter," Obi-Wan told him fondly. "As I suspected from your ability to get us off of Indoumodo. If we keep working on your meditation and ability to pull from the Force, I think you may make a fine Jedi, regardless if you were not trained from the proper age."

The words caused an odd feeling to flare in his chest. Vader didn't like the feeling at all and became seized with concern all over again. He told himself he should not feel guilty over any of this—his task had been to assimilate with the rebels and he was doing so flawlessly. If he felt feelings of pride, perhaps he should indulge them.

When he finally went to sleep that night, he dreamt about his mother.

**~oOo*oOo~**


	10. A Slight Hiccup

**~oOo*oOo~**

Vader drew his hood up to shield his face from the scorching Tatooine sun.

A certain edginess had plagued him ever since arriving on this Force-forsaken planet. His throat swelled up and his skin prickled. The familiar desert landscape of his home planet stirred up unsettling feelings inside his chest. He could almost sense his mother's presence—as if her spirit was hovering next to him as he walked. The turmoil of emotions made him feel weak. He'd somehow avoided returning to Tatooine ever since having begun training with his master. The place was downright haunting.

_Wrong._

That was the feeling more prevalent than the rest. He shouldn't be here—it was a painful reminder of his past. But he was no longer a slave or a boy who had lost his mother tragically—he was a Sith—and he was feared throughout the galaxy.

Taking a deep breath and letting his eyes flutter shut, he summoned a dark wave of the Force as discreetly as he could manage and let it's comforting coolness wash over him like a lover's caress. His nostrils flared. That was better. His eyes opened but they were hooded from the drugging effect of the energy he'd called. He only just managed to keep a sinister smile from spreading over his face.

He turned to glance at Kenobi and be sure the blasted Jedi hadn't sensed the disturbance in the Force, but he caught Amidala's chocolate gaze instead. She'd been laughing at something Kenobi had said and had turned to look at Vader when her smile had abruptly dropped. Her large eyes grew impossibly larger as she studied him, her lips parting. Feeling high from the energy he'd summoned, he had to mentally force himself to mold his expression into one of practiced innocence. He could only imagine how he'd appeared to her—the woman who wore her feelings on her sleeve like a badge of honor.

Pretending nothing was amiss, he flashed her a friendly grin, content to note he could no longer sense the unsettling feelings that had surfaced once they'd departed the _Azure_. He could always rely on the Force.

Amidala pressed her eyes closed and swallowed, before looking up and favoring him with a grin of her own. Though her smile was light, he clearly noticed her eyes were much more guarded. His smile shifted seamlessly into a smirk and he turned his focus straight ahead, reveling in his lightened mood.

"So what exactly are we hoping to gain from this trip?" Vader asked, his eyes scanning the streets. His lips curled in distaste at the sight of so many people milling about, interspaced with the occasional slave rushing to do their master's bidding. "You never did say."

Kenobi cleared his throat. "Well, Anakin… "

Just like that, his happy mood was rapidly dashed. He still had not grown used to hearing his name uttered so easily on someone's tongue—as if he'd ever granted them _the privilege_. A name was power. The name of Darth Vader was feared throughout the galaxy.

"Today, we happen to be in the business of rumors."

Vader tried not to frown, suppressing a twinge of annoyance at the reminder that his co-conspirators had not exactly clued him in very much on the details surrounding Mission Fervidity. They still didn't trust him, which gained them several points in Vader's book, but it just meant that _he_ needed to _try harder_.

Amidala's grin turned rueful. "As you know, we're looking for someone."

"A bounty hunter," Vader supplied helpfully.

Amidala nodded. "That's right. By the name of Jas Tashu."

Shock jolted through Vader, but his only outward tell was a slight muscle twitch under his eye. Jas Tashu. The bounty hunter had been a thorn in the Empire's side for as long as Vader had been his master's apprentice and much longer before that. True to a bounty hunter's nature, he had played both sides of the war, but as of late, it became clear where his true allegiance lied. He'd helped smuggle resources to the Separatists from everything from fuel to weapons, and therefore had to be dealt with. By all accounts, Tashu had been eviscerated right along with his ship, but it would appear the rebels had cause to believe otherwise. Vader was curious as to why.

"I believe I've heard the name," Vader gritted out, forcing his voice light, when really it was all he could do not to sneer.

"He is rather notorious." Amidala twisted her shoulders in a flippant gesture, and he was suddenly struck with the desire to punish the deceitful commander who would dare conceal such a secret from the Empire.

He plunged on. "You have reason to believe he resides _here_?"

"He has been known to stop here on occasion, a fan of the races, you see," Kenobi explained. "But we hardly expect to find him as easy as that."

Vader tugged tighter on the hood. "You're going to ask around in the circles he runs in?"

"Podracing and the bar scene," Amidala said. "There's one person in particular—a podracer by the name of Dud Lee. He's friendly with Jas. I've never met him before. But Tyro's told me of their acquaintance."

Vader did not decide to press his luck about what they hoped to learn from finding the bounty hunter, yet mentally he was running through a series of possible resources the rebels could be trying to get their hands on. Allowing—and _actually helping_ —the rebels succeed in this endeavor could mean a detrimental blow to the Empire. Once again he was struck with the dilemma of whether or not to blow his cover sooner in order to stop the rebels from succeeding, or do what he'd been instructed by his master.

But his master's will had been very clear.

There was a bigger picture involved. Finding out all of the locations of the rebel bases was more important than stopping the rebels from obtaining some measly jet fuel, or even an entire armory of weapons. Nothing they could procure was enough to pose a fatal threat to the Empire, especially after the Imperial Republic built the ultimate weapon. His master only cared about hunting all factions of the rebels down snuffing them out so he wouldn't have to suffer their insubordination any longer.

No, he couldn't oust himself so early on. Vader's mission was clear.

At the same point, he also couldn't actively sabotage the mission, no matter how tempted he was to do just that. By continuing to aid the Separatists and by extension—Amidala—his plan led to the quickest path to gaining the rebels trust and rising within their ranks.

He had to help them find Tashu, and by some miracle— _not_ kill him when he did.

The vast podracing circuit came into view and they drew to a halt.

"We'll split up—that's the fastest way," Kenobi instructed. "Find out what you can, and keep on the look-out for Lee. We'll meet at this bar," he gestured over his shoulder to the building behind him already pounding with loud music, "before sunrise, and reconvene then."

Vader could not help but to gape at the man. " _Split up_?" Was the old Jedi a fool? It was a rhetorical question. Of course Vader knew the man was more foolish than most.

"Yes, Skywalker," Amidala teased. "You're not scared to be alone, are you?" she asked with faux innocence.

Vader ignored her, eyes appealing to the Jedi. "Should not one of us accompany the commander? Tatooine could be dangerous." He knew better than most. And the criminal climate had only gotten worse, by all accounts. What was more, the population was largely male. Amidala would be noticed—he was sure of it.

The air between the trio became chill and fraught with tension.

Amidala stared at him with a frosty expression marring her pretty face—her _symmetrical_ face—rather.

"I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself," she whipped her cloak behind her back and it billowed before settling against her petite and far too vulnerable frame, "thank you _very much_."

Kenobi lifted his brows. "All of us have been selected for this mission because we've proven ourselves in battle."

 _You haven't proven yourselves to me,_ Vader internally snarked.

"This is just a simple foraging mission, Anakin," Kenobi continued, "for information. We're less likely to be noticed if we move about separately."

"I only think it prudent—"

"You've made your thoughts clear," Amidala interrupted in a crisp tone, "as we've made ours. As the commanding officer, I defer to Kenobi. Three is noticeable, one is easily forgotten. I don't need an escort."

Vader opened his mouth and closed it. They both far outranked him, at least insofar as the Separatists were concerned. Dark laughter rang in his head at the reminder of where he truly stood. The thought comforted him. He must make a mental note to punish her for this, as well. He should start keeping notes for all the slip-ups she was making. But as far as he was concerned presently, there was no point in arguing further.

"Very well."

Amidala arched a brow and spun on her heel. "Happy hunting, Skywalker," she called over her shoulder. "Good luck."

Both she and Kenobi slipped seamlessly into the growing throng of people. Vader wrinkled his nose, feeling salty over being dismissed, and made to go off in the opposite direction they had, before changing his mind at the last minute. His blue eyes roved over the crowd and he just barely caught a glimpse of the commander's brown cloak, but she was swiftly moving out of his line of sight, and he would lose her again soon. Paralyzed with indecision, he grit his teeth before taking off in her direction.

He would trail behind her like a ghost, giving her no indication he'd followed. He could care less what happened to Kenobi—once was all the man was going to get from Vader as far as _saving_ went—but Amidala was crucial to his plans. He'd put far too much time and effort into their relationship to let her get away from him now.

His pace hastened until he caught her trail once more. And like a dark and protective knight, he shadowed her.

**~oOo*oOo~**

Padmé cursed her luck.

Trudging back to the meeting point, she could only hope Skywalker and Obi-Wan had been more successful in learning tips than she had. All of her interactions that afternoon had proved fruitless. She'd received six drink offers—one person even offered to buy her some kind of beast on a stick—and a startling offer to join _a harem,_ of all the silly things. She only just managed to evade the massive-eyed rodian and his much too enthusiastic hanger-on's before being plucked and draped in sheer tulle, to then be paraded in front of traders and gamblers alike.

It was actually kind of odd.

She'd been certain one of the green-skinned rodians had followed her to the edge of the arena, and had become alarmed when she'd picked up the pace only to sense the alien behind her had done so as well. She'd gripped the handle of her dagger—lamenting over the fact that she'd left her blaster aboard the ship as Kenobi had suggested—prepared to strike. But when she'd turned to face her stalker, he surprised her by stopping mid step, wicked expression going startlingly blank and slightly puzzled before saying, _I think I will buy a drink now,_ to no one in particular. It had turned to a nearby stand and ordered a beverage she was sure was intended for humans. It had all been very strange.

An eerie feeling pervaded her senses.

Everywhere she went from then on—it was like the crowds were parting for her. She'd donned her hood for good measure expecting she'd have to ward off more unwanted attention, but a sharp contrast to earlier in the afternoon, no one seemed remotely interested. It was kind of a relief, actually. She hadn't wanted to admit it, but she'd almost wished she'd taken Skywalker up on his offer. It was slightly overwhelming being a woman alone in a place dominated by males of so many species, even mostly hidden as she was by her cloak. The only women she saw were Twi'lec slaves. She cringed at the reminder of just what many of them were expected to do for their masters. Those tales had always revolted her. She'd hope to take on their cause and causes similar once starting a career in the capitol, but then democracy had promptly vanished.

She knew she should have grit her teeth and dealt with the advances, probably taken someone up on their offer to buy her a drink and seen what information she could glean from then, but everyone she'd encountered had seemed like the wrong sort—the wrong caliber of people to have intimate knowledge of someone like Jas Tashu. She needed to make a connection with an _actual racer_ , or a high-stakes gambler. Maybe she'd have better luck at the bar.

Moving through the crowd, she traversed over rubble and cut across to an alley, deciding she could get to her destination much quicker sans the throng of people.

She thought she saw a flash of fierce blue eyes, but upon closer inspection found no humans on the fringes of the crowd behind her at all. Shrugging, she trudged on.

Inexplicably, her thoughts drew to Skywalker. An image of his face manifested itself in her mind's eye—an exact replica of how he'd looked when she'd caught herself staring earlier. A blush stained her cheeks and she told herself it was due to the heat, even as a cool breeze brushed past her and the sun receded further into the horizon, casting dark shadows on the walls. Skywalker's expression had been twisted in something _like pleasure_ , and she hadn't been able to keep herself from gaping at him. When he'd opened his eyes, they were heavy lidded and stormy—churning with some emotion she couldn't quite place. She had blinked, wondering if she was seeing things, or if her close proximity with him lately thanks to sharing a ship was encouraging some sort of unhealthy obsession. Padmé was not one to lose her head over _guys_. She'd had flings and they'd burned hot, but a certain dangerous part of her couldn't help but wonder what doing some of those things would be like with someone like _him_.

She sighed.

Force, but she sounded just like Cordé. Here she was on the mission that meant the world to her—one she'd been trying to get approved for ages—and she was acting like a besotted girl who'd been deprived of physical intimacy long. Well, maybe the latter was true. Things of a sexual nature had been the last thing on her mind. She was fully committed to the cause. Yet lately, her focus had seemed a little stilted.

He'd caught her staring of course, but if he noticed the lapse on her part he hadn't clued her in. She selfishly hoped he hadn't. There were a thousand reasons why she should keep her distance from the man, chief among them because of the way they quarreled so… _heatedly._ Really, the two of them didn't seem capable of coming to an agreement on anything. She'd have to be out of her mind to think he'd ever have _that_ sort of interest in her. She suspected he might secretly _despise her_ , and only tolerated her up to this point because she was the commanding officer and simply because he _had to_. It appeared to Padmé that Skywalker would like nothing more than to see their roles reversed—he seemed quite comfortable giving orders, instead of taking them. Catching a glimpse of Skywalker looking blissfully… _pleasant…_ was the closest she'd get to seeing _that look_. Goodness, the places her mind could take her. He wouldn't be directing that sort of interest on her anytime soon, she could be sure.

Of course, there was that one time…

Padmé gulped at the return of that insidious little voice inside her head, her blush growing redder as the memory flashed through her mind.

That day, under the shelter of the rock.

She'd woken up and felt _him shift under her._ A jolt of energy sliced through her and settled down between her legs. She cursed her rotten luck. Desire was _the last_ thing she should be feeling. He'd pierced her with a gaze so rife with intensity, but she could hardly tell if it was intense due to hatred or something else.

Something else. She laughed aloud and winced as the sound echoed off the walls. She was reading too much into it. Men often woke with that… _problem._ She needn't assume it was thanks to her, though her squirming probably helped move matters along. They never did talk about it. Really, there hadn't been time to talk about much as one daring mission had shifted rapidly into another. The fact was, he had saved her and came through for her _repeatedly_. Despite his abject disapproval, he'd proven his worth as a reliable pilot and fighter. Besides, she'd rather have someone on her team who voiced their disapproval rather than sitting and letting it fester into something that could turn into bitterness. Sometimes his advice was rather sage, anyway. She didn't mind taking it, and it was worth appeasing him every now and again. Every good leader knew it was smart to consider every point—especially from one so competent.

A noise jolted her from her private musings.

Footsteps.

Slightly alarmed, she sped up, telling herself it was normal for others to seek out shortcuts just as she had done. Still, she'd rather get to where she was headed, sooner than later. When the footsteps grew louder, she glanced over her shoulder to see not one, but three rodians following her. They were the same ones who had petitioned her in the arena! A vision flashed unbidden to her mind of herself wearing sheer clothing and shackles.

Clenching her jaw, one hand drew discreetly to her dagger, while the other found the lunar pendant she wore around her neck. "Shiraya, Ancient Goddess," she whispered urgently, "you've protected me all day, please extend your protection to me now when I need it most." The Nubian goddess had surely interfered on her behalf, as was evident by her earlier interactions. Padmé prayed Shiraya intervened on her behalf again.

Skywalker was probably laughing somewhere, telling her _I told you so._ She felt foolish. The situation was gradually deteriorating. All possible options indicated fighting for her life would be _a necessity._ The exact opposite of what she'd prepared herself for. Nostrils flaring, her hand tightened around the handle of her dagger.

Obi-Wan had believed in her! He had vouched for her to Skywalker that she could take care of herself. Bless the Jedi. She'd preened at his display of faith in her, smiling smugly with a dash of pride in Skywalker's face. Obi-Wan had seen her fight. He knew she could handle herself as good as any man. She only hadn't anticipated she would become a target here on this planet thanks to her sex. Tatooine was rather archaic. She frowned, and made a dash for another alley, hoping desperately that she'd lost them.

When they didn't immediately round the corner, she breathed a sigh of relief and broke into a sprint, navigating between buildings faster than she could keep track of where she was. She was getting herself well and truly lost, but that wasn't of paramount importance. Hopefully she'd lost them.

Chest heaving with the shallow rise and fall of her pants, she pressed her back against the wall and eyed the direction from which she came, trepidation burning in her eyes. No one came and no sound could be heard. Her eyes rose to the sky as she tried to discern just how turned around she'd become by evaluating the sun's location.

Deciding she may be able to turn around and then get back on her original path, she took off again, this time much more quietly. The scent of the soup she'd smelled from the bar she was supposed to meet her crew at wafted in her nostrils, letting her know she was near her destination. Her stomach rumbled and she berated herself for thinking of hunger at a time like this.

As she rounded the corner, a hand shot out and grasped her by the throat, picking her up so her feet were dangling from the ground. Just like that, her hunger was forgotten.

"You think you can hide from us, human?" the rodian taunted her, his foul breath causing her to flinch away. "This is our territory. We know the mazes better than you."

Padmé used his talking to her advantage, wasting no time to plunge her dagger into the softness of her attacker's belly, kicking him between the legs with as much strength as she could muster. The rodian howled in pain and dropped her none-too-gently, its dark green blood oozing from a hole in his gut. She tumbled and landed face-first. Feeling dazed and fueled by adrenaline, she sprang up to her feet and made to run, but was stopped once more when another rodian grabbed her arm and hauled her towards him.

She called upon years of training, using her short stature to her advantage, and attacked the rodian with everything she had. The cowering alien narrowly managed to deflect the brunt of her attack, stumbling back, and she poised her blade to strike. She was stopped short by the third rodian, who twisted the blade from her hand and threw it far from her reach. She heard it clatter against the wall before falling with a soft thud on the dirt path.

"A feisty female," he crooned, snatching her arms even as the other stumbled back to restrain her legs. "You will make a good addition to the group, Slave."

"I'm _not_ a slave," she snarled, twisting desperately against their strong grips. Something wet slid from her brow and further down past her eye.

They only laughed at her statement, exchanging amused glances between each other. She got the sense they were not used to females disagreeing with them.

Padmé felt true fear then. She had no weapon, and she was effectively restrained. The first rodian she'd injured hobbled to his feet and came at her with a sinister glare on his face. One of his hands held at the wound to keep the blood from gushing, while the other reached inside his tunic, sweeping blindly until he found what he was looking for, producing the rope with a flourish and watching her reaction keenly.

Had the goddess abandoned her? This couldn't happen. Not so close to the bar and relative safety. She should have stayed in the crowd. They wouldn't have tried to capture her in front of so many witnesses—unsavory characters or not, surely.

The rodian holding her legs straightened them. The injured rodian threw the rope around her, but he didn't have the chance to wind it.

One moment, he was reaching towards her, malicious intent burning in his oversized eyes, the next he'd stepped back, clawing at his throat and gasping for air. With the absence of his hands, his wound was uncovered and bleeding profusely again. Padmé and the two remaining rodians froze in surprise, staring at the scene with matching puzzled expressions.

With one last choking sound, the rodian fell to the floor and collapsed head first into the dirt. There was something distinctly familiar about the scene, and then it came to her.

Struck by inspiration, she turned her head and her heart lifted when she saw Skywalker sneaking up soundlessly in all his raging glory. He advanced on the rodian holding her legs and slammed its head into the wall before the rodian even knew it had a visitor. _Thank you, Shiraya_! She found her footing and used the distraction to wrench her hands away from the other rodian. Jumping up, she attacked him to the ground. She thrust her fingers in his eyes, gauging them, all the while hearing what sounded like Skywalker beating the Force out of her other attacker.

In seconds she was pulled off of her enemy, and she stumbled back as Skywalker took her place. She crawled back on her legs, tasting copper in her mouth. She watched him deal as swiftly with her rodian as he had with his. He was a vision, his movements ferocious and strong, a feral expression splintering his face. Padmé took sadistic pleasure in the pain he exacted on her assaulter.

When Skywalker was through, he threw the rodian up against the wall next to the other, and then focused that white, hot anger squarely on her. If she'd been a lesser woman, she might have flinched away. As it was, she could barely hold his gaze, but did so anyway, defiance warring in her eyes along with… _appreciation_. He came towards her and reached for her hand, pulling her up with too much force.

"Come on," his tone was clipped, and laced with tension. "We need to get out of here before the rest of their gang shows up."

She stumbled along, barely keeping up with his long strides. He didn't let go, and though her inner commander was preparing to demand he unhand her that instant, she kept her mouth closed and simply let him lead. They wove in and out through the back alleys of the seedy stores that dotted the edge of the arena. She noted that it truly was like a maze, and was secretly grateful he knew his way around them.

Finally, the bar came into view a slight distance ahead and he let go of her hand quickly, as if just realizing he was still holding onto her. He'd let go as if touching her had scorched his very skin. Unfortunately, she was so disorientated, she swooned dangerously before resorting to leaning heavily against the wall.

And suddenly he was just… _there._

His hands on her shoulders. Squeezing. Straightening her. Piercing blue eyes assessing her for damage. Cruelly pursed lips so close… and somehow at the same time, _much too far away._

She swallowed and made a valiant effort to get a hold of her nerves. He already had so much cause to think so little of her. The last thing she needed was to faint in his arms and give him more reason to doubt her. By the stars, she was _a commander_! What was wrong with her? She couldn't let this man affect her so. She wouldn't.

One hand released her shoulder and then his fingers reached out.

Time seemed to pause and the planet seemed to stop spinning for one elongated second. He was so close—they were breathing the same air. And then—impossibly light—his fingers brushed her cheek. An electric shock as strong as a podracer jolt sparked down her spine, making her body tense with titillating anticipation. _Dear Goddess!_

Something wet dripped and glided down his finger. "You're bleeding," he informed her, voice rough. Her ripped a piece of material from his tunic and dabbed at her forehead.

"Sorry," she rushed, then silently cursed herself. She was apologizing for bleeding? "I mean," she hastened to explain, "sorry for wandering into trouble like that. I don't usually—"

"What in the galaxy would prompt you to choose this route?" he exploded.

Padmé paled at his outburst.

"Did you want Jet and his gangsters to capture you? Make it easy for them? Give them a nice abandoned alley to accost you in? I never took you for daft."

Her temper rapidly splintered.

"Daft?" she echoed, before pushing him soundly in the chest. The towering specimen of a man didn't even budge. "Really? As if I meant for this to happen?"

"Do you have any idea what they had intended for you? What those people are about? They're in the business to make money. Gamblers. They feed their habit by the lucrative trade of _females._ They counted themselves lucky to stumble across a woman like you."

"How do you know—can you read their minds?"

Skywalker stilled, his fists clenching. He glanced away. "Everyone knows. Gangs have a reputation around here."

"I've been here before, and had a different experience entirely," she informed him primly.

"Well, things have changed."

"Clearly. Thanks to the Empire and its laws making illegal activity easier to get away with if not all out encouraging it. The gangs have obviously flourished under Palpatine's rule."

Skywalker frowned.

An idea struck her, and she folded her arms across her chest. "Were you following me or something?"

"No," he answered smoothly. "I just wanted to evade the crowds."

"Oh, but it's not daft for you to take this route, is it?"

He gave her an exasperated look. "I know my way around. Home planet, remember?"

"That's right." She shifted uncomfortably and stared down at her interlocked fingers. "I suppose the Lunar Goddess looked out for me."

Skywalker scoffed loudly. "Yes, that's _bound_ to be it."

His lips twisted into a sardonic smirk and her eyes were helplessly drawn down to them. Dizziness surged in her chest, as she sank her teeth into her bottom lip. It was entrancing… bewitching like the man himself. When she looked back up, it was to find his blue eyes several shades darker. He stared at her with that piercing stare that made her want to squirm. Her heart fluttered against the cage of her chest, urging her forward, coaxing her to close the distance between them. For one mad second, she feared she may do just that, before she jerked away, remembering herself.

"Um…" she stammered, "I… well… that is to say—I'm most grateful to you… that you saved me… _again_." She forced a shaky laugh.

He leaned forward, as if ruled by the same power that tormented her. She stopped breathing. _Dear Goddess, he's going to kiss me!_ But at the last second, he veered to her right, his nose brushing her hair. When he spoke, his breath whispered against her earlobe, causing her to shiver with something alarmingly close to desire. "You can thank me by listening to me next time," he told her huskily, and she tried not to lean into his tempting touch. "I know what's best." The commander in her rallied against his domineering words, but her traitorous body shivered with delight. He drew away and she forced herself to breathe again. "Save us all a lot of grief."

She forced herself to become offended, really having to prod her anger along. For some reason, those emotions were slow to come to her at the moment. Others were disturbingly more prevalent. "I suppose," she huffed, taking great pains to straighten her cloak and her ruffled tunic. She refused to let him see how affected she was. "But you should know—most of the time I haven't had cause to utilize an escort. I only require a pilot and I'm actually quite proficient on my own, barring recent instances, of course."

Skywalker rolled his eyes and stepped away from her, granting her much needed space. " _Of course_ ," he said with so much sarcasm, she'd have to be deaf not to sense his disbelief. "Now let's go before our _dear Jedi_ is consumed with worry."

"You mustn't say that," she tugged on his sleeve urgently, halting him, and he froze as her fingers brushed his skin. "The galaxy thinks Jedis are gone. We can't slip and say something that could be overheard. If they find out about, Obi-Wan…" Her eyes grew distant as she gazed at something far away. "They could start hunting again."

He swallowed and his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. "They won't," he assured her, then gestured around. "Do you see anyone within range?"

"Still." She set her lips stubbornly.

Skywalker shook his head and took off for the bar. She trailed closely behind him, forcing the tumultuous feelings he'd dredged up to the back of her mind so she could focus on their mission.

**~oOo*oOo~**


	11. Playing Pretend

**~oOo*oOo~**

An hour, one bantha soup, and two dry whites later could find Padmé staring off miserably, waiting for Obi-Wan to finish his conversation and return to their table to catch them up. The Jedi had been talking to the man—a Hutt trader, according to Skywalker—since they'd arrived, having apparently not noticed their tardiness. Obi-Wan had briefly acknowledged them with a nod, at one point, so there was nothing to do but order their food and hope he had more success than her and Skywalker had had.

Skywalker had thus far failed to prove himself stimulating dinner company. He was of the decidedly _boring_ variation, at least at the moment.

He was quiet and mostly answered her questions with one word answers, if he answered at all. Cordé would call him _intense and brooding._ Of course, Padmé preferred when he stayed quiet anyway—that did seem to be when they got along best. This way, she could watch him from a distance without needing to actually speak to him. She could admire the perfect image he cut, without having to find herself caught in his disarming gaze. Though there was some rebellious part of her that wanted to engage him… _provoke him,_ even.

"Another white?" The Twi'lec waitress asked her.

"No thank you." Padmé had indulged quite enough. When the waitress left, she turned to Skywalker. "Do you think he's finding out something valuable?" She gesture to where Obi-Wan sat with a tilt of her head.

He appeared to consider it. "Probably not," was his final answer. "More likely, he's getting some tip that will send us far from the Outer Rim to some distant planet where we'll pick up another obscure tip that will likely return us to the Outer Rim to some other random planet where some particularly helpful resident there will send us on another wild chase. Meanwhile, the war will come to an end, and we'll finally discover what was true all along."

She let out an indelicate snort. "And what would that be?"

"That the man's long dead."

"The eternal pessimist." All at once, she wished she hadn't dismissed the waitress so abruptly. She'd had a change of heart and suddenly wanted that third drink after all. She needed all the help she could to deal with _him._ "I just wish I was doing something." Sitting there, twiddling her fingers in her lap just had the effect of making her feel more anxious. That coupled with Skywalker's unsettling words, and she felt a cross between helpless and furious that she wasn't actively doing something to help.

"I'm sure you could find another gang to kidnap you. Trouble does seem to find you wherever you go. A gift from _your goddess_ , I guess."

She clenched the edge of the table. He was impossible! "That Huttese ale sure has loosened your tongue, hasn't it?"

She grinned in satisfaction as the smirk dropped from his face. "Not a fan of that option, then?"

"Definitely not."

"Then we could always go over to that racer's table—Dud Lee—was it?"

Padmé whipped her head around, shocked to actually find the human racer sitting at a lone booth and crowded by his entourage in the direction Skywalker had indicated with his eyes. "Has he been there the whole time?"

"Only since we walked in."

"Kind of you to _finally_ point it out."

He shrugged. "You're not going to just get an audience with him."

She tried to argue with him, but he shushed her.

"Not unless you play it carefully."

She arched a brow. "Carefully? Do elaborate."

"It's easy. Follow my lead and play along. Can you do that? Can you give up control for a whole—say—fifteen minutes?"

Padmé felt as if she might explode, but swallowed back the snarky retort that was quick to surface. Better to have him on her side then go at it alone, most likely. She straightened to her feet and reached across the table before downing the rest of his ale in one moment of sheer recklessness. She sat the glass back down with a thud and he stared at it, slightly stunned, as if he couldn't quite believe she'd had the gall.

A wave of dizziness washed over her at the same time as a dazzling smile spread across her face. She quirked her head to the side, and he stared at her, eyes narrowed. "Lead the way, _Your Lordship_."

She left her cloak sitting on her seat and flounced off into the crowd of dancers, making a beeline for the bar. The dance floor was diverse—so many species intermingled and swaying to the loud and oddly lulling music. She froze when she felt two hands come up and grasp her by the hips, pulling her back and into a hardened chest, swaying her to the music.

Alarm caused her to stiffen, but she knew instantly that it was Skywalker who'd grabbed her—she could smell his familiar scent. She felt strangely safe when she was with him, like nothing bad could possibly happen to her. Probably a result of being saved by the man one too many times. At the same time, she felt silly for reveling in the feel of his protection—she wasn't a child and could _more than_ take care of herself. She hardly needed a caretaker to watch over her. Well, barring recent instances.

Still, it was comforting.

He leaned down and whispered into her ear, and she planted her feet to keep from embarrassing herself by doing something so ridiculously stupid as falling back into him. "The racer you said knows your bounty hunter," she could only just discern his voice above the music, and only because he spoke directly into her ear, "he's quite susceptible to flattery, so long as he doesn't feel threatened."

She turned then, and she felt his nose brush against her neck. His breath halted. "You know him?" she tried to ask over her shoulder, creating much needed space between them.

Skywalker paused for a moment, before stepping closer than before, and Padmé's breathing hastened thanks to the change in proximity. "I know of him." His hands tightened around her hips and he swayed them again.

"Fine," and how her voice was somehow hoarse, she was sure she'd never know. It wasn't like she was effected or anything. She could see that Skywalker was merely trying to blend into the crowd. Pushing him away would do her no service other than making him aware of her discomfort. "So we pretend to be _enamored fans,_ I can do that. Let's go."

She tried to push past him, but he stopped her. "Wait. Drinks first."

She'd wanted a drink at one point, but now she was second guessing that desire. Maybe she'd better keep her wits about her. "I'm not sure—"

"We have to look the part."

He steered her to the bar and quickly got the bartender's attention, a miracle in itself, amid the many rowdy guests. "Two Tatooine Sunsets."

Her mouth fell open and she stared at him. The vibrant lights flashing through the bar cast distorted shadows on his face. He looked oddly reminiscent of a fallen angel.

"What?" he asked, feeling her scrutiny.

" _Skywalker_ drinks frilly drinks? My ears must deceive me."

"They're sweet and strong. What's not too like?"

She thought she heard him mutter something about _liking sweet things_ , but the sound was swallowed up amid the noise around them. Their drinks quickly arrived and she was already testing hers, before he firmly ushered them from the bar and closer to where Lee and his gang sat.

The drink was strong, and quite good. Before she knew it, hers was half gone. She immediately noticed a change in Skywalker. He kept a hand on her back and smiled like the liquor had gone to his head when she knew it hadn't. He was always the picture of control. _Sounds like a challenge,_ that insidious voice that had only gotten louder since she'd indulged, was quick to taunt her with. She grimaced, but then he was grabbing her drink and reaching over to set it on the ledge of racer's booth. Lee looked up, noticing them, and she thought it'd be a good opportunity to start gushing and playing the role of the fan, but Skywalker only melted back into the edge of the crowd, pulling her with him.

Oh, wonderful.

It was to be more dancing. Padmé had learned what was required of her as a noble from the Nubian Court, but this… _chaos_ was not something she understood.

"Can't we just… ask for his autograph or something?"

He dismissed her plea with a shake of his head. "Too obvious. We just got here and they've noticed us. Now, in case they were to look further, they'd just see us doing what everyone else is doing. Not a threat." She'd strayed away from him and his brows furrowed, pulling her back. "I thought you said you wanted to do something? Would you rather go back to the table and hope Kenobi's found all the answers we need?"

She worried her lip. The more information the better. Especially from a known associate of the bounty hunter, but he was _so paranoid_. "No," she said firmly. "I want to do this."

"Then you need to dance."

Letting out a frustrated huff, she shook her head. "I can't!"

"Why not?"

"I don't know how to dance like this, if you can even call it _dancing_."

"Come on, _Padmé_."

She stilled at the sound of her name. A shiver ran down her spine. It was the first time she'd heard him utter it, and she was struck with the desire to hear him say it again, even though part of her knew he was just teasing her—challenging her, even.

"Just relax."

It was hard to _relax_ when she felt the return of that mysterious pull, stronger than before. Something palpable and alive buzzed between them, and she was helpless to ignore it. She was again struck with the urge to close the gap between them. His proximity set her nerves on high alert. He moved, coaxing her to do so as well, and she followed his movements as closely as she could manage, making a valiant attempt to keep her mind focused on the mission, where it belonged.

All around her, bodies moved fast and hard, swaying with the music and pulsating with the pounding of the beat. He rocked her slower than their neighbors, allowing her time to adjust to the movements and learn how to move with the music. She felt the liquor she'd consumed heating her vessels, forcing her limbs loose, and making it easier to dance… _instinctual_.

This wasn't the stiff Nubian dancing she'd learned as a young girl, where every moment was exact, planned, and calculated, it was freeing and as much as she hated to admit it—he was right—once again. Anyone could dance.

She tried not to focus on how good his hand felt pressed over her hip, like _it belonged_ there, only separated by the thin fabric of her white utility pants. Or how pleasant the warmth radiating from his body felt against her own. She tried not to pay attention to the hand splayed over the small of her back, sending delightful tingles throughout her body. She tried not to get sucked into his gaze, but his eyes smoldered with flecks of dark blue inside lighter shades. They were like endless tunnels that pulled her in, and she was helplessly drawn to his stare. She tried to resist—but she failed.

"You're staring," she pointed out, drawing courage from her delightful buzz. "Has my eyebrow started bleeding again?"

His lips twitched in amusement, then his fingers tightened as if remembering just how annoying it had been to swoop in and save her. Damn. She shouldn't have brought it up. Yes, his gaze had _definitely_ darkened. She swallowed, for some unfathomable reason, prepared to apologize again. Why was she always on the verge of apologizing?

His head fell forward, surprising her when it brushed against her forehead. "Promise me you won't do that again."

To anyone else, they'd look like lovers caught up in each other, and blissfully unaware of anyone else. No one would expect the real truth. They weren't lovers… they didn't even _like_ each other… officially. Rather, they were on a dangerous mission and many lives depended on them. That's what this was about. Padmé regretted consuming the alcohol—it threw her—but it was, at the same time, necessary.

"I promise I won't be a liability," she grit out, embarrassed he'd thus far only saw her at her worst and had so little faith in her. "It won't happen again."

He tilted her chin in a gesture that would no doubt make him appear like the doting friend, a practiced and calculated move on his part. She refused to react to it, so she had no idea why she swallowed back a gasp, her eyes scanning his searchingly. "You're missing the point."

On the next sway, she swooned and he caught her.

"Is your mind on the mission?"

She suppressed a glimmer of irritation. "What else would it be on?"

He nodded. "Okay. Let's go. Time to turn things up a notch."

He nudged her towards their drinks and she stumbled forward, relieved and at the same time confused as to why she was in the lead. Her confusion was rapidly dashed as she felt him step behind her, staggering along with her, his head swooping down to nuzzle her neck. All thoughts of acting fled her brain as she tilted her head to the side enthusiastically to give him better access, neglecting to even give her body conscious permission to do so. Dark blond locks brushed her skin and she tensed, wanting suddenly to fist her hands in them and _pull_. She bit back a moan as he mouthed her neck, closing her eyes and hobbling blindly, only vaguely aware of where she even was. Dear Goddess, what was he trying to accomplish here? How was this _at all_ relative to their plan?

She stumbled to the ledge and almost knocked their drinks over when her hands reached out to seek purchase in something solid.

"Watch where you're going!" someone barked. An angry, slightly irritated tone, Padmé noted.

Her cheeks flamed crimson. "Sorry." She ducked her head, cursing her own stupidity, but cursing him more.

"Lay off them, Nito."

Padmé glanced up to see it was the racer—Dud Lee—who had spoken up for them. She wanted to smile her relief, but that urge was quickly suppressed. The man was positively leering at her. His dug counterpart was staring at her as if she were a bug to be squashed. Ironic—in her opinion.

"Don't you know young love when you see it?" Lee continued good-naturedly. "Or have you never had the pleasure?"

She preened over the fact that she'd been referred to as _young._ This war coupled with her responsibilities had made her feel ancient. Yet, she couldn't ignore the fact that Lee had so readily bought into the image that she and Skywalker were together. Of all the impossible things. Lee flashed her a smirk, as if they shared some secret, and she reddened further.

Behind her, Skywalker straightened, appearing to just take stock of his surroundings and smirking sheepishly. "Lee?" he asked, with just the right amount of surprise in his voice. "Dud Lee?"

Lee spread his arms in a welcoming gesture. "In the flesh."

"By the Force," Skywalker swore with such obvious false enthusiasm to Padmé, but only because she was beginning to grow accustomed to his ways. "My girlfriend and I are huge fans." He stepped beside her and draped a possessive arm around her side, causing her to stiffen.

Padmé didn't know what to feel. She was reeling at the easy way in which he'd just referred to her as _his girlfriend_. What in the Seven Sith Hells was he doing? He might have done her the solid of cluing her in, if he were half the gentlemen. Of course, this was Skywalker she was talking about. He might be excellent at concealing his emotions, but she was an open book. A warning would have been appreciated.

Lee's countenance changed, as if viewing Skywalker as a threat. He eyed him like he was measuring his strengths and weaknesses. She thought Skywalker would have been better off pretending to be her brother if they really hoped to glean information from him. Though she was secretly glad they didn't have to go that route.

"We won quite the handsome purse thanks to your success at the races last week."

Padmé needn't have worried. Skywalker could—of course—be as charismatic as he needed to be, should the situation require it. His charms seemed to extend to everyone, regardless of sex or species. He had a knack for knowing just how to play people. Lee relaxed visibly, an indulging grin spreading across his face.

"Let us buy you a drink?" Skywalker molded his expression to one of hopefulness and abject hero worship. "It's the least we could do… to show our appreciation."

"Beat it, humans." The dug fluttered to their side in an effort to brush them away.

Okay, perhaps his charm didn't extend to _every_ species.

"Wait," Lee stopped them, casting Nito a sidelong glance before turning back to them. "Stay for a spell. Present company has grown a bit dull."

Skywalker smirked, and she wondered how Lee failed to see the wicked intent evident on his face. It was becoming glaringly clear to her, and far easier to notice.

**~oOo*oOo~**

After several rounds of drinks, Amidala no longer tensed under his seemingly careless but actually deliberate touch like she had initially. She was finally getting the hang of playing the role he'd carved for them both. Either that or the alcohol was prodding her along.

He shot her a worried glance. She was laughing harder than he'd ever seen her laugh before at some joke that Lee had told, no longer heightenly aware of Vader's arm around her. He frowned. That wouldn't do. He liked when she noticed him. He slowly dragged his fingers up her bare arm and over the cloth of her shoulder until he reached the skin of her neck. He lightly massaged her there as if it was the most normal thing in the world. She stilled, her eyes going wide.

That was better.

Let her not forget about him _completely._ Though he was happy to see she'd grown _so comfortable_ to his nearness.

He'd had his eye on Lee's table the entire night while Amidala whipped down spoonful after spoonful of Bantha soup, blissfully oblivious of the close proximity of their target. There were several times he wanted to break out into outright laughter. Could they be so wholly unaware? Her and Kenobi. Why, Vader could have easily kept his mouth shut and it was entirely possible they would have left the bar without stopping to pay their most important link to Tasha the time of day. He was highly tempted to, but then again, the last thing he wanted to do was traverse around the galaxy following loose tips and dead ends. The sooner they were successful, the sooner he was to enacting his own plan.

But if he was going to save the day— _again_ —he was going to do it _his way_. That meant the little commander was going to be forced well out of her comfort zone. Dark laughter rang in his mind. There may very well be other ways to procure the information they needed, but this was by far the most pleasurable method for him. Besides, she'd already pushed him to his limits.

Dismissing his advice? Risking her own life so recklessly? Letting those bandits get so close to taking her? His fingers curled onto a lock of her hair possessively and she emitted a small gasp. He'd be damned if he'd let some third-rate gangsters get his hands on something destined to be his. He shifted his gaze over to her, letting his eyes rove over her. She shifted uncomfortably under the heat of his gaze, though she was looking away. His eyes were hooded as they examined her—his future possession. For that's what she was—a possession he would demand at a later time. There really wasn't anything more to it than that.

Time spent tonight with her served as a reminder of just what he would receive when he would ask his master for his reward. The way she moved in his arms… the way her body fit against him so perfectly… the way he could read her wants and desires as clearly as he was reading news articles on a datapad. He could grow accustomed to having the feisty commander under his control. If he was uncertain about asking for her after the success of his mission—he certainly had no qualms about asking now.

It would be a requirement.

"Do you live here?" Lee asked, the question seemingly more directed towards Amidala. The racer was far too enamored with her for Vader's liking. "In Tatooine, I mean? I've never seen you before."

Beside the racer, the dug's wings flapped in irritation. Fed up with the bug's insolence, Vader sent a wave of the Force to silence the creature, rendering it useless, before freezing over what he'd done. He'd summoned the Dark side of the Force without stopping to conceal the effort like he normally would. Damned Tatooine ale. His eyes scanned for Kenobi to see if he felt the disturbance. The Jedi twisted in his seat, looking mildly perplexed. He blessedly did not cast his suspicious gaze on Vader. He'd simply have to be more careful.

"Naboo, actually," Vader answered quickly, unable to keep his hands from roaming. The Dark side of the Force only fed his physical desire to dominate the woman beside him. "Just a planet over."

"Avid fans of the races!" Lee determined, as if they'd made the pilgrimage just for podracing alone—like that was enough to bring someone to this Force-forsaken planet, Vader thought scathingly. Lee nodded to them in approval. "Come all this way just to see the festivities live."

"Not only that," Vader flashed a disarming smile, feeling sure his cheeks were going to throb the next day thanks to all the blasted smiling he'd done. "We're here to seek out a family friend of Padmé's."

The commander froze under his ministrations and he felt dark triumph sear through him. He knew calling her by her first name made her uncomfortable, and she'd never extended him her permission, but their current situation worked to Vader's benefit. She could hardly correct him now.

"A family friend?"

"Yes. You might know him? He goes by the name Tashu."

"My uncle." Amidala smiled sweetly, and Vader mentally rolled his eyes, squeezing her in warning. A bounty hunter was likely to be a clone, therefore would be hard-pressed to be her uncle. She seemed to come to the same conclusion, although a moment too late. "Of sorts, anyway. My father and he were like brothers. They fought in the Clone Wars together."

Lee, who had previously stilled upon hearing the revelation of just who they sought, relaxed, seemingly satisfied by her hastily formed explanation. Vader internally scoffed at the man. People were so weak, as his master had always said. So quick to trust, when they should be questioning everything. Yet here was this man, renowned for his sharp instincts and racing ability, so besotted by _a mere girl_ he couldn't bother to see he was being played. Vader would never be caught making such a misstep.

"I know the man," he replied happily, looking between them as if he expected to be presented with a medal for his profession of knowledge. "It's been ages since I've seen him." He leaned over and spoke in hushed tones behind his hand. "Hiding from the Imperialists, you know. Last I heard, he was holed away on some planet swarming with hammerheads." He laughed jovially.

"Er… hammerheads?" Amidala did not appear impressed, nor at all enlightened by the news.

Vader jumped in. "Do you know which planet, exactly?"

Amidala favored him with a grateful look.

Lee shook his head, cheeks flushed from the alcohol they'd consumed. "No, no. I'm rather afraid I don't remember. Spoke to him on Holonet last, I did. A right paranoid fellow, anymore. Not as fun as he used to be."

Amidala pursed her lips, looking disturbingly sober despite the abundant amount of spirits they'd consumed. "I see."

The topic turned from the elusive bounty hunter, and Vader began the task of disengaging himself and Amidala from the table when it became clear they would get no further information. The table was becoming lively with people clamoring to sit with the famous racer, and get his attention. Many pathetic hanger-on's and groupies were trying to get a seat. Vader would relinquish his happily.

"We better go," Vader said with false enthusiasm, "a craft to catch in the morning, you know."

Lee nodded. "Aw, so soon? But of course. Young love, I remember. Lovely to meet you two."

Vader laced his fingers between Amidala's, relishing in the few more minutes they could play pretend before things went back to normal. If it were up to him, he could get used to this level of intimacy. He'd wager her feelings were quite the opposite.

"Hey there!" Lee called after them.

Vader arched a perfect brow, no longer feeling capable of keeping up the guise of an enamored fan. He might be on the verge of becoming sick from the act he was pulling. It was all far too sweet for his liking. Vader was not used to acting such a way, far more familiar with demanding what he wanted from anyone unfortunate enough to cross paths with him.

"Floating cities."

"What?" Amidala frowned and Vader felt her confusion mirrored with his own.

"I remember something else… he complained about floating cities. You know, missed his land legs. Hope that helps."

Amidala waved goodbye and Vader impatiently tugged her to his side, gliding through the masses and irritated by what little information they'd received.

"Is that enough to go on?" she asked hopefully, a slight slur to her voice.

He snorted. "Hardly."

"Well, I hope it wasn't a complete waste." He spun her out and she caught him by the shoulders. "What was that for?" Her scandalized expression caused laughter to stir in his chest.

"We can't _just leave._ That'd be suspicious. Have to stay for a moment, at least."

She sighed. "No one's even watching."

"Does it ever get tiring—micromanaging _everything_?"

She pouted. "Not really, no. Someone has to make sure things are getting done properly."

"Just for tonight, rest assured _I'm_ that someone."

With no further objections, he whirled her onto the dance floor, noticing with some disappointment that Kenobi seemed to be finishing up his never-ending conversation with that trader, _finally_. Soon the night would come to an end. He had to admit, his time on Tatooine this round had been far more entertaining than that of his night's on the _Azure_. Training under the Light side of the Force could be incredibly taxing. He was grateful for the much needed reprieve, if only for a day.

He looked down, noting the lost, almost whimsical expression on the commander's face as she stared up at the flickering lights dotting the ceiling. He took advantage of her altered state, spinning her violently until she became dizzy from exertion, and forcing her to lean on him for support. Once more, she seemed annoyingly unaware of his presence, and so he slowed their dancing and brought them closer together.

Her eyes widened and she looked up dazed. Vader arched a brow, finding it funny how much the prim and proper commander was letting him get away with. If she were in her right state of mind, she'd surely be having a coronary by now. As it was, there was something to be said about stripping away inhibitions—they left nothing but _the truth_. Maybe she liked to give up control… when there was someone strong enough to _make her_.

Surprising him further, she swooped up on her tip-toes and linked her hands around his neck, pressing her face against his chest in a full on embrace like he'd seen her do with Kenobi and Tyro. When she broke away, she leaned up to whisper in his ear. "Thank you for saving me."

He suppressed a shiver, blaming the desert air. It could get cold at night.

"You know," she pulled away, meeting his gaze with open curiosity. He could get lost in those stormy brown eyes. "Has anyone told you? You're such a good actor…" she glanced around, as if about to divulge a secret. "It's scary… like, _scary good._ "

"Perhaps you could benefit by learning to hide _your_ emotions a bit more," he told her candidly, because she really could. Didn't she know knowledge was power? It only gave people leverage over her when she divulged what she knew so readily.

She smiled a half smile, staring at him fondly. "I think you worry too much." She buried her face into his chest and yawned, the sound muffled. He carded his fingers between her chestnut locks almost subconsciously. "People aren't as bad as you make them out to be… _Anakin._ "

He stopped moving, stunned into a sort of shock by hearing _that name_ coming from _her lips_.

He usually despised the name, reminding him of a weak and powerless boy who had no control over his life whatsoever... to say nothing about the people he cared about. But when she said it, it dredged up feelings unfamiliar and foreign. Feelings he knew he was trained to believe he was better off _without._ Suddenly, the memory of his mother he'd pushed away earlier felt stronger now more than ever. This was her planet, where her spirit rested, and he'd always have that connection, no matter how hard he tried to sever it. Damned Light side of the Force, stirring emotions he'd rather forget. He was tempted to call upon the Dark side of the Force, just to counteract the Light and its bewitching ways, but he dare not risk it, especially affected by spirits as he was. He might find himself unable to conceal a second slip-up from Kenobi.

"What?" she paused, misinterpreting his silence. "You called me by my name. It's only fair." She tugged on his hands, bringing them to her waist. "Also, don't think I didn't notice." He needn't ask her what, because she was happy to enlighten him. "The way that first rodian, choked and fell over dead on its feet in front of us? The same way that Kouhun did on Indoumodo? Always seems to happen with you around."

He stiffened and pulled away from her, but she pulled him back.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," she assured him, lightly tracing the muscles clenching in his arms. "You're highly Force sensitive, that's what it means, even if you didn't know before. I think it's brilliant."

Brilliant? If only she knew. If only she recalled who else it was exactly, that could choke people at will, harnessing energy from the Force. She may not be so quick to herald him a hero.

She laid her head against him and for the next few songs, was content to move with him slowly. The rest of the bar moved with the tempo—hard and fast—but he and Padmé danced to a rhythm of their own. It was one only they seemed capable of hearing. For a few moments, Vader allowed himself the luxury to forget. To forget about who he was and what he stood for, to forget about the pressing restrictions of his mission, to forget that one day he would have to betray this girl and her friends in the most ruthless way imaginable. He conveniently let the knowledge slip his mind, content to enjoy a few more moments of blissful peace, and didn't inconvenience himself with examining why such a revelation would bother him in the first place.

Padmé was relying on him so heavily, he wondered if she'd fell asleep and he may be forced to carry her back to the ship. He eyed the column of her neck with rapt attention, recalling the way she tasted when he played actor in front of the racer. It was… _quite a lovely neck_. He wouldn't mind slipping into the role of the commander's _love interest_ again, should the situation call for it. It was hard to forget the way she'd writhed in his arms, completely taken aback when he'd decided to strike. He let his hand roam her back, taking advantage of her uncharacteristic compliance. On any other day, she might very well slap him, even thrust the barrel of a blaster in his face should he dare make such a move. He savored this time when the feral beast inside her slumbered, leaving a submissive and kind girl in its place.

A throat cleared and he looked up.

Kenobi stood in front of him, amused eyes dipping down to the girl in Vader's arms. Vader froze, experiencing an unfamiliar pang of guilt.

"We found a friend of the bounty hunter," he informed the Jedi when Kenobi drew closer, his tone crisp and business-like. "She fell asleep." He gestured to the girl in his arms, who had been so comfortable in his presence, she'd allowed herself to doze.

"Hey," Kenobi raised his arms in something like surrender, "no need to explain to me." He gave Vader a wry grin.

"We _did_ get information," Vader stressed, irritated by the assumptions Kenobi looked to be making, "about the bounty hunter's whereabouts."

It wasn't much to go on, but it was something more than they had before.

"So did I," Kenobi offered, stepping forward to help shoulder the weight of Padmé. "I found out he had his ship outfitted for water landings. The trader saw Tasha request the adjustments when he was repairing his own ship. We can, at the very least, narrow down his location to a planet that's likely covered in water."

Vader sneered distastefully as Kenobi came to help him. He would have preferred being left alone to the task. He wanted badly to swoop the woman up into his arms. He had no idea where such an urge had come from. Even so, he was forced to accept Kenobi's help, and both of them took off in the direction of the ship, parked and hidden in the sprawling desert dunes just outside of town.

"Planet covered in water… and teeming with hammerheads, apparently, as well as floating cities."

"Oh?" Kenobi perked his brow in interest. "Is that what you discovered?"

Vader nodded.

"We can conduct some research when we return to the _Azure._ "

The walk was slower than it had been that morning, what with helping the commander along, but Vader relished seeing the desert landscape of his home planet, bathed by the light of the moon and appearing eerily beautiful. A breeze ruffled his hair, having long forgotten to don his hood, and he once more felt the stirring of a familiar presence.

_Be brave, Anakin!_

He flinched away from the words, pressing his eyes closed before he let the memory consume him, suddenly feeling as if he couldn't leave the planet fast enough. It was full of painful memories, ghosts, and _regret._

Beside him, Padmé stirred. "Where we going?" she slurred.

Kenobi soothed her, and Vader became stricken with jealousy. Though the Sith would never resort to comforting someone, he hated that Kenobi _could._ Something clenched in Vader's gut.

"It's alright," Kenobi said, gently shifting her weight. "We're going back to our ship."

"Oh." More aware, she tried to help, stepping with renewed enthusiasm.

"We've learned what we needed here," Kenobi intoned wisely. "Now it's off to the next adventure."

Vader could hardly wait.

**~oOo*oOo~**


End file.
